


Worthy of Regret

by Riverrock32



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverrock32/pseuds/Riverrock32
Summary: It's been a month since Bridget resigned from Wentworth, and said her last goodbye to Franky. Her new job at the University begins in a few days. She should be at home, laying in Franky's arms, reading a book. Instead she's sitting alone in a pub drinking her sorrows away...her attention drawn to a lanky brunette in the corner. ..





	1. Chapter 1

 It had been a month since Bridget had left Wentworth. Her new job at the University began in a few days. She hadn't lectured in years, and after the confirmation call she decided to go out, for once. She debated phoning a friend, but decided she'd rather not end up talking about the big fucking incarcerated elephant that always made its way into her conversations. Instead she dressed casually, and went alone.

 The pub was full tonight. Bridget chose a stool facing a window overlooking the busy street. With her back to the crowded room she felt she could relax and enjoy her wine. She hadn't come to be social.

As evening fell and the street lights came on, Bridget sipped her wine and did her best to ignore the fact that she'd forgotten how many glasses she'd had. Several men approached her, but after a slight shake of her head they had all moved on. Her attention was actually on a lanky brunette sitting comfortably in the corner to her right. A large sketch pad was balanced on her bent knees. When Bridget had first noticed her, her breath caught in her throat.

_Franky?_

But no, aside from the familiar build, dark brown hair that cascaded messily over her shoulders and beautiful olive skin, the similarities ended. This woman grinned broadly at anyone who approached her. There was no suspicion, no dark stare. Franky didn't like crowds. She looked at every stranger as a potential threat. When they went out, Franky had always insisted on having her back to the wall so she could keep an eye on the room. Bridget had never blamed or questioned this. The reason was obvious. Franky would loosen up after a few drinks and they had always enjoyed themselves. But when they were out together, she never seemed to completely drop her guard.

No, this strangely beautiful woman seemed to converse easily, in a relaxed and sure posture. Every now and then she'd pause and work on whatever she was sketching. She pulled the book to her chest each time someone got too curious. Her smile was wide and inviting, and whoever had shifted their attention to her work rather than her face quickly came to their senses, and met her dancing eyes once again.

For over an hour Bridget stole glances at her as she slowly sipped what she was determined to be her last glass of wine. Whoever the woman was talking to now must have said something funny, because the brunette threw back her head and laughed uproariously. It was an absolutely beautiful sound, and Bridget wasn't the only one who noticed. Several heads turned and shot rather envious looks at the one who'd been fortunate enough to make her laugh like that.

It was fucking bizarre, looking at another woman. Bridget hadn't so much as given another woman a thought for the last month. Her mind was utterly consumed with thoughts of Franky, and how she was stuck unjustly behind bars. How could Bridget think of anything else? How could she eat, sleep or even carry on with her life when the other half of her was missing? Hadn't they promised to each other, whispering in the dark, their undying devotion and love for one another? Hadn't they said forever?

Bridget's eyes filled but she refused to shed tears in public. Franky had made her choice…made it for both of them. She didn't want Bridget. She wanted to be left alone to… _wither away and die._

Bridget sipped her wine and stared unseeing out the window. She knew the reason for Franky's anger, her frustrations. God to be so helpless and innocent and with all the world against her! _It was fucking unfair!_

Bridget had been sure it wouldn't last. She still trusted a system Franky was convinced was broken beyond repair. Bridget simply didn't accept that in a few days Franky wouldn't be released. But she wasn't. A month went by. Her remand time stuck in a long pile of countless others. Over-worked and under-paid clerks would never be able to keep up with the endless task of setting dates and preparing their bosses for trials. And Franky knew how the system worked. She'd studied it for years, filling her brilliant mind with ways to make a difference when she got out of prison.

But after her second arrest she believed that it was hopeless. When she put on the teal, Bridget thought that she was simply trying to blend in, but now she realized that a part of Franky had died. When she shed her civilian clothing she was literally shedding the last remaining part of her that knew freedom. She knew she would forever be a prisoner.

In a desperate and rather naive attempt to keep her afloat, Bridget had actually only succeeded in solidifying Franky's hopelessness. Bridget being in the hallways, untouchable, secret, was too much for her to bear. Franky had cut Bridget deeply…both physically and emotionally. And at last, Bridget decided to leave. She wasn't able to help. Franky didn't want it. Once she put on the teal she had refused every bit of hope Bridget tried to offer.

Bridget spent countless hours trying to imagine their positions being reversed. Would she sink so swiftly into despair? No! Wouldn't she reach out to any lifeline for help? Wouldn't she hold onto the fact that she was unconditionally loved and believed?

Of course she would. Her life had played out fair. She trusted the system and she believed in justice. But in the wee hours of the morning, while she still lay wide awake, she knew that she could never fully picture herself in Franky's shoes. She could only deduce, from reading her thick file and knowing the woman as intimately as she did, that Franky had immediately figured out what Bridget had taken a long time to understand. Franky was fucked.

As the night wore on, Bridget cast yet another glance at the woman, and was startled to see her boldly staring back at her. Bridget looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught. When she dared to look again, the brunette was still staring at her. When at last they met eyes across the room, the brunette raised an eyebrow and offered Bridget a smile. It was different from the ones she'd been blasting at strangers all night. There was the first indicators of insecurity. Bridget lifted her chin slightly, and returned the smile. The brunette grinned and turned her attention back to her sketch book. Every now and again she'd look at Bridget, who was now openly studying her. She staved off company now, her attention solely on her work…and Bridget.

Bridget turned back to the window again. There weren't as many people out now. She could feel the strange woman's eyes on her still, but she didn't look over. One month ago she'd walked away from the love of her life. What sort of person was she to be struck by a stranger after so little time had gone by? How meaningless did her whispered promises seem now?

Bridget gripped her wine glass and set her jaw. She hadn't broken her promise. Franky had. For all intents and purposes, her Franky was gone.

It was fairly late when at last the woman closed the book and stood, stretched, and caught Bridget's eye again. With an easy stride she made her way through the now smaller crowd and pulled out the chair next to Bridget's. They looked out the window together, at the darkened streets lit by closed shop lights and flickering street lamps. When Bridget finally turned her head, the brunette was leaning on one elbow, looking at her. Her eyes were a brilliant green. _So achingly similar, yet so different._

"I'm Alex."

"Bridget."

Alex tilted her chin to Bridget's now empty wine glass. For a split second, Bridget thought she'd offer to buy her another. But instead, the stunning brunette simply asked, "can I see you home, Bridget?"

Bridget raised her eyebrows, surprised…and disappointed. ..and offended. _What kind of woman did this Alex take her for?_

Alex smiled at her, easily reading the misinterpretation. "Relax." She murmured, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"

Bridget turned to look out the window again. "A forward one." _She'd had plenty of experience with those._

Alex chuffed at her. "If you can stand right now without swaying, I'll eat my sketch book."

Bridget looked at her sharply, not appreciating the underlying meaning behind the challenge. She wasn't drunk. "You've been watching me."

"You're hard to miss."

Bridget looked at the other woman again. She hadn't missed the quiet flirt. Well, in truth, she greatly missed quiet flirts. It was just that right now, it was coming from wrong. ..different lips.

Alex tucked her book under her arm and stood. "Let me see you home, Bridget. That's it. Promise."

Her green eyes shone with light and her inflection was sincere. Bridget sighed and stood, immediately swaying, immediately cursing. Alex laughed and gently took her arm.

"Thank god! I was afraid I'd have to eat my drawings!"

Bridget, only slightly embarrassed, found herself laughing with her. This woman's grin, however on the wrong face, was utterly contagious.  
…

Alex had firmly insisted upon driving, stating that she'd caught the bus anyhow. "I don't own a car," she admitted unashamedly. "I miss too much of the world when I drive."

Bridget gave her the address and leaned back against the head rest. "So you are missing all the world has to offer right now?"

Alex shot her a grin. "Oh, I'm not missing anything, Bridget."

Again the flirt. Bridget shook her head but couldn't clear it. However much wine she'd had was now taking full control of her brain. One more glass and she may have started calling Alex by a different name. One whose name was never far from the forefront of her mind. She didn't respond to the flirt. She actually didn't trust the words that might come out of her mouth. She'd gone home with strangers in the past, when she was more reckless with herself. But at her age, now, after everything? She'd found her soul mate. Found her, and walked away from her.

"Hey day-dreamer. Still with me? Is this your house?"

Bridget nodded and Alex pulled the car into the driveway. She reached into the backseat and picked up her sketch book. "Well come on. We made it this far. Bit more to go, hey?"

She grinned broadly when Bridget needed help getting out of the car. "I'm not usually…this isn't me." She muttered.

Alex shrugged. "No worries." She said easily. She amicably walked Bridget up the porch steps and led her inside. She whistled in appreciation at Bridget's taste. She was about to comment along those lines when Bridget suddenly turned and grabbed her jacket front.

"You can stay." She grit her teeth against the onslaught of shame and guilt that pounded her already pounding head. She shook against the internal battle as she tried to tug the other woman's jacket off.

Alex caught her hands firmly. "Hey, hey, wait. I'll tell you what. ."

Bridget looked up at her. _Same height even_. ..

Alex smiled gently, stroking her thumbs over Bridget's hand to lighten some of the firmness.

"If you can remember me tomorrow, I'll put my number…in the microwave. You can call me if you'd like."

Bridget looked at her confused, and Alex laughed and led her to the couch. "Sleep it off, day-dreamer, and call me in the morning."

She sat Bridget down on the couch and the other woman sank gratefully into the comforting softness. Alex tucked a blanket around her. "It was my pleasure to meet you, Bridget." She said, keeping her voice low. Bridget already had her eyes closed.  
Alex moved into the kitchen, tore out a page in her sketch book and folded it neatly. She scrawled her number across the folded sheet and smiled to herself as she placed it in the microwave. She let herself out of the house on noiseless feet, casting one last glance at the sleeping woman on the couch.  
…

Bridget opened her eyes and immediately snapped them shut against the blinding sunlight. Had she left the curtains open last night? Why was she on the couch, fully clothed? Bits of memory inched their way into her hung over brain. Franky had been at the bar. No, wait. Not Franky. Another woman. They'd talked, this woman and her. Alex. She'd driven her home.

_You can stay._

Bridget groaned as that particular memory pushed itself to the front of her mind. Christ, how desperate was she? No wonder the woman had fled!

She sighed and stood carefully, moving on stiff joints towards the kitchen. As she reached for the kettle, her eyes fell on the microwave, eliciting another memory. Without thinking she opened it and reached for the folded piece of paper she'd known was inside. She smiled at the phone number and carefully unfolded the page. And gasped.

It was a sketch of her face, in unimaginable and stunning detail. Every line, shade, etching…it was like looking into a mirror. There was a note written at the bottom.

_To the saddest eyes I've ever seen: I'm hoping I will be brave enough to give this to you by the end of the night. –Alex_

As she read the note she felt a lump in her throat. She hadn't felt this way in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Bridget didn't call Alex. She couldn't bring herself to take that leap, to invite another woman into her life. It was too soon. Franky was never far from her thoughts. Her clothes were still in the closet. Her toothbrush was waiting for her in its little holder on her side of the sink. Stands of her hair were still caught in Bridget's hairbrush. Her scent was still on the throw blanket that was always tossed over the couch. She was everywhere in Bridget's house, and everywhere in her mind. It was just impossible to grasp that she was gone. Not when reminders of her were all over Bridget's house. Hell, she was stamped permanently on Bridget's heart as well, and no amount of house cleaning could erase that.

Before Franky's initial release, when they had first met, she was a locked up soul. A brick wall hidden behind audacious flirting and a sharp tongue. Bridget found her fascinating. Her wit, her endless charm…and yes, her stunning beauty.

When Bridget had first caught up with her in one of the halls, Franky was distracted, worried. She uttered a quiet "for fucks sake," when she realized they weren't alone. Bridget had noticed the other inmates, hovering just near enough to threaten, but far enough away because of the psychologist's presence. She'd looked at Franky calmly. "Is there something wrong?"

She knew the answer. She was trying to assure Franky that absolutely nothing would happen to her while Bridget was with her. She had felt an inexplicable desire to assure her then. To protect her.

But Franky had thrown up her hands in defeat and achieved the calculated goal of getting herself thrown in the slot. After the Governor's surprisingly cool remarks, Bridget had peeked into the slot, and smiled at the inmate. _I see you, Franky Doyle_.

The smile she received in return was the first authentic one she'd seen from the brunette. There was an apology behind it, as if there was some remorse in dragging Bridget into her drama. But there was something else too. Bridget hadn't realized it then, but now in hindsight she was well aware that Franky had deliberately shifted her walls to show Bridget that she was real. There was a hope and a plea behind that small smile. _Give me chance._ Bridget smiled to herself. _Oh she gave her a chance, alright_ …

It had been as heartbreaking as it had been wise to leave Wentworth. She had never been so unbearably separated from her lover before. After that first confident kiss in the parking lot, when Franky grinned and laughed with delight in seeing her upon her release, and then after the second kiss Bridget gave her against her car…god she was never going to let this woman go! And she didn't. The subsequent months had arguably been the best and most rewarding months of her life. Bridget had never been so completely happy.

The Franky Bridget had known in prison was one thing. Free Franky was quite another. Bridget had to close her eyes tightly and grip the counter top at the sudden wave of arousal in her lower abdomen, followed by the crashing sensation of fresh heartache. A Franky with no walls, no façade and no inhibitions, was quite a woman to be reckoned with. And she was hands down Bridget's. And Bridget was unquestionably hers.

As Bridget moved around her house, doing the odd chores that needed doing, she couldn't help but mourn for her loss. It was the most horrific trauma she'd experienced thus far. Franky wasn't dead. She was in prison for a crime she didn't commit. The details surrounding her involvement were still so unclear in Bridget's mind, and though Franky was a frighteningly good liar, all she had to do was look into those brilliant green eyes to see the truth. Franky didn't do it.

With everything in her, Bridget had fought to keep her. Fought to reassure her when it was abundantly clear that Franky was rapidly sinking into hopelessness. She had been through hell and back in her thirty-odd years, but this time, she was stuck in hell. As hard as Bridget tried, she couldn't bring her back. It was torture to watch the love of her life unravel so quickly. So soon after her early release. So soon after Bea Smith's death…murder. The excruciating agony of seeing her put on the teal, as if she deserved to be behind bars forever, was more than Bridget could stand.

 _Oh Franky_ …

Bridget wiped her eyes as she unceremoniously dumped her laundry in the washer and turned it on. She went to the closet for the vacuum. This wasn't healthy. Rehashing each moment. Analyzing every conversation. Picking apart every facial expression. Reliving every exquisite …and terrifying memory. Franky had been utterly lost, and had allowed herself to drown alone. She hadn't wanted Bridget's help. In the end, it had just been too much.

_But I fucking love you!_

_And I fucking love you._

_Then don't leave me!_

_Bye Franky._

She turned her back on the last desperate wail, one she'd never heard before. The sound shattered everything inside her as she closed the door and left.

And now, a month later, she still found herself tenderly feeling the soft brunette hair she found in her hairbrush. Found herself gently running her fingertips over the soft fabric of Franky's undergarments in the drawers. Found herself unwilling to move the clothes hanging in the closet, and sometimes even leaning into them, grappling with her own desperate desire for the body they belonged to. The psychologist in her knew she was mourning as if she was experiencing a death. She accepted every feeling, processed it, and tucked it away. She knew how this worked. And she knew that after the adamant rejection from Franky, the shocking anger and violence she'd shown towards her, and the uncertainty of the length of unjustified imprisonment were all clear indicators that Bridget, for her own sanity, had to let Franky go.

She had firmly told Vera to not inform her of anything Franky related when they had drinks several days after she resigned. She firmly closed her heart to the blatant sadness on her friend's face at this statement, but like a true friend, Vera had honored her wish. Bridget wanted… _needed_ …to move on.

Bridget put the vacuum away and turned once again to the folded drawing she'd left on the kitchen counter. No, she couldn't call Alex. But she could return to the pub. Maybe in hopes of seeing her again. Maybe in hopes of not.  
…

The pub was crawling with new comers that evening, mostly students from the University Bridget would soon be lecturing at. Apparently there was to be live music tonight. This was not a good night to be here. She didn't need her future students burned with a memory of their professor stumbling around the local pub. In fact, she thought as she turned to leave, she would now need to find a…less hip venue.

"I didn't even bother going in."

The voice behind her was familiar, and Bridget whipped around. Alex was leaning against the pub window, the same one they'd looked out the night before. Alex smiled at her and pushed herself from the window.

"Figured you wouldn't call…but was sure hoping you'd be back here." Her green eyes were warm with delight. Bridget felt a flush creeping into her cheeks. She stood still, a bit struck by the woman before her. her observations of Alex last night were not wine induced fantasies. The woman before her, though obviously her own unique person, was a damn spitting image of Franky. It was confusing to say the least.

Alex cocked her head, a question on her features. "Do you remember me?" She grinned. "Or do I have to flirt with you all night again?"

Bridget finally collected herself and her sense of dignity. "Alex."

She was rewarded by that 100-watt smile and Alex stepped closer. "Wanna get out of here?"

Bridget frowned at the suggestion, and Alex laughed at her. "I need to work on my one liners, apparently. I meant, I'm starving, and I don't want to have beer spilled on me all evening by a bunch of pissed, groupie kids."

Bridget relaxed and found herself smiling back. Something about the woman in front of her completely disarmed her. She scoffed at herself. The _something_ was pretty fucking clear.

Alex tilted her head up the street and began walking, inviting Bridget to follow. Bridget stayed where she was. "We're walking?"

Alex came back and gently took her hand. "Yep. No car, remember?"

Bridget nodded slightly, discretely taking her hand back. "You don't want to miss anything."

Alex didn't seem to mind that Bridget moved from her touch. "Yes! You were listening!" Her delight shone across her face, lighting it up. She took a few steps and waited for Bridget to catch up with her. They walked comfortably down the street.

After a moment of silence, Alex bumped her shoulder. "What are you in the mood for?" Her tone was low, suggestive. Bridget huffed past it, getting accustomed to her playful side. She pointed to a small, local restaurant ahead. Alex grinned at her, and they strolled towards it, enjoying the cool night air.

When they'd been shown a table and ordered drinks, their conversation started. Alex was easy to talk to, and she opened up without hesitation. As she listened, Bridget studied her. It was out of habit, but she couldn't deny her own curiosity. Bridget loved people. She loved discovering what made them behave how they did. What made them hold themselves upright. The world was a gritty, messy and most often cruel place. Not many had gone unscathed.

Alex was no different. Her parents had divorced when she was young, and such were the circumstances, neither of them had been fit to raise her. Both had been abusive, both had been alcoholics. Alex had never been the target, thankfully, but had watched dozens of brutal fistfights between her parents.

When they at last separated, Alex was given over to the care of her maternal grandmother. Alex's adoration of her was evident by the way she spoke of growing up with her. Her grandmother was an amazing painter, and cultivated the love of art in Alex at her young age. She taught her to see the light in every bit of darkness, and how to capture truth in her drawings.

One night, when Alex was twenty-one, she had been coming home from the pharmacy with her grandmother's prescriptions. As she took the shortcut down an alley, a man leapt out of the shadows with a gun and tried to mug her. He wanted the drugs she held.

Alex shook her head sadly. "If they had been for me I would have given them to him. But Gram needed those little heart pills to stay alive."

She wrestled with the man, screaming for help and drawing the attention of a parked uni across the street. The uni pulled his gun and the man panicked, accidentally shooting Alex in the heart.

Bridget gasped. "But you're alive!"

Alex smiled at her, the same sad smile. "I am. The uni shot the man down, and we were both rushed to the hospital. There was no time for hesitation."

She touched her chest lightly, looking into the distance. "My would-be murderer saved my life." She tapped her chest. "Perfect match."

Bridget closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open. "You have…that's his heart?"

Alex nodded, tapping her chest again. "Well, Gram always said it was my heart all along. That he was just keeping it warm for me."

Bridget shook her head in amazement. "Your Gram sounds like an incredible woman.

Alex laughed. "Nah, she's a crusty old lezzo, but I'm especially fond of her."

Bridget laughed with her, her first real laugh in months. She looked into the green eyes across from her, and slowly allowed herself to be drawn into their warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two months since Bridget had left Wentworth, and one month since she'd met Alex. She had started lecturing at the University in the city just a few weeks ago, and had already begun to feel the change that working brought. She had never seen herself as a lecturer before, but she found it rewarding to speak into the minds of her students and instill in them the knowledge it had taken her over twenty years to glean. She found herself smiling more; laughing more; drinking less. She had just dismissed her second class of the morning and as she gathered her things to head to her office, she heard a low, provocative voice behind her.

"Let's do this, teach. I've got a class in twenty minutes…"

Bridget didn't bother turning around. Instead she kept packing her briefcase with her student's essays. She chuckled. "You promised me you were going to work on your one liners."

A warm arm slipped around her waist and Alex planted a loud, smacking kiss on Bridget's cheek. "I meant let's go get lunch. God, you are pervy!"

Bridget laughed and pushed her away. "Where do you want to go?"

Alex pulled a brown paper sack from her bag. "Naw, I made us stuff today."

Bridget raised an eye brow. Alex was a frightful cook. "Um, sweetheart…I thought we agreed that you…wouldn't make us food? Ever?"

Alex tried to look offended but burst out laughing. "Geez you set one kitchen fire…"

Bridget coughed. "Three kitchen fires…"

"Fine, _three_ kitchen fires, and suddenly you aren't allowed to make your woman a sandwich? I mean, how can you wreck a sandwich?"

Bridget slipped her arm through Alex's and bumped her as they walked from the lecture hall. "I don't know baby, but I asked that question about you and pasta, you and grilled cheese, you and…"

Alex feigned offense. "Alright, alright. Fine. I lied anyway. I got these at the deli."

"Ohh, really?" Bridget's eyes lit up, unafraid of lunch anymore. She reached for the sack. Alex held it out of reach, laughing at her.

"Not so fast, you horrible thing. First I gotta ask ya…"

Bridget eyed the sack one last time and then looked up at Alex. Her green eyes twinkled. Bridget smiled. "If it means I get to eat, you can ask me anything."

Alex widened her eyes in mock horror. She looked around scandalously. "You _are_ a dirty bird!"

Bridget shoved her lightly. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Alex. Give me a sandwich."

They chose a shaded bench on the campus lawn to sit at. Alex grinned as she handed Bridget a warm chicken salad sandwich. Bridget grinned back at her, squinting in the sunlight. Alex sat across from her and pulled out her sketch book, glancing at Bridget every so often. Bridget continued to eat, amusement dancing in her eyes. She'd lost her embarrassment when Alex drew her. Alex never asked her to be still or turn to the right or any such foolishness. She simply poked her tongue between her teeth and lost herself in her art.

After several minutes, Bridget asked, "What was it this time?"

Alex didn't look up, but grinned into her work. "The sunlight on your smile lines."

"So you are happily sketching my glowing wrinkles. Thank you, Alex."

Alex shushed her and rubbed a thumb over the page, smudging something. Bridget tilted her head. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Did you like the sandwich?"

"Yes, thank you. Feel free to bring me that again anytime."

Alex winked at her and held out the sketch. Bridget, like she always did, gasped in amazement. "Oh Alex!" She breathed.

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty amazing. It is possible to be narcissistic for someone else?"

Bridget was still gazing at a perfect replica of her smiling eyes shining in the sunlight. "No dear, that's called obsession. Can I keep this one?"

"You ask that every time. You can't keep filling your house with sketches of yourself, Bridge. _That's_ narcissism."

Bridget laughed. "I don't care. And I don't see me in them, I see you. And I like reminders of you around my house."

Alex smiled at her and tossed her sketch book in front of Bridget. "In _that_ case, they're all yours!"

She reached out and took Bridget's hand. "I like you, Bridget Westfall."

Bridget held her hand and leaned her chin in her other hand, her elbow on the table. She didn't answer. She just looked into those startling green eyes. She was becoming accustom to their unique shade. There were flecks of gold around the pupil, so when the sun hit them, they looked iridescent. She was quite fond of this woman, as well. Alex winked at her again.

"I'm not usually this stupid for dates, but I met ya a month ago." She paused, almost embarrassed. "And I wanted to tell you how happy I am. I love being around you."

Bridget squeezed her hand affectionately. Alex blew out a breath and said quickly, "So I wanna cook for you tonight!"

Bridget blanched visibly. "Oh, no…Alex…"

Alex roared with laughter. " _Kidding!_ Wow, you're cruel. No, I'll bring us something. You take care of the wine. I just want to stay in tonight with you, yeah? Maybe watch one of those crappy romantic comedies you love so much?"

Bridget frowned slightly. "So…no cooking?"

Alex snatched her sketchbook back. "Not _mine_ anyway, you horrible woman. Just for that I'm keeping these." She got up and placed another kiss on Bridget's cheek as she left. This time, it was softer. She smiled and leaned her forehead into Bridget's hair for a moment before straightening up. "See you tonight, day-dreamer."

With that she ambled off and Bridget watched her go, not able to keep the smile from her lips. Slowly, oh so slowly, this woman was melting her heart.

…

That night, after dinner, and after the movie end credits began to roll, Alex squeezed Bridget's shoulder. Bridget, her head tucked against Alex's shoulder, had just hummed in satisfaction at the predictable happy ending. Alex leaned into her hair. "I can't believe you love those so much."

Bridget sighed. "I can't help it. The happy endings unknot my stomach and leave me with the warm fuzzies. I just really like that, even if it's not real. Even if it's just a movie."

Alex kissed the top of her head and said, "you can have that, Bridge. You can be happy again, if you want it."

Bridget pulled back slightly. "And what do you want?"

Alex smiled at her. "Isn't it obvious?" She grinned. "I want you."

Bridget smiled back at her and Alex touched her face. "I wanna kiss ya, Bridge." She whispered.

Bridget froze for a moment, and then nodded. Alex leaned down and for the first time in a year Bridget pressed her lips into ones other than Franky's. It felt strange, learning new lips. As Alex deepened their first kiss Bridget found herself aching for the kind of happiness Alex offered her. She groaned and leaned her head back. Alex followed her until Bridget was laying on the couch. Her hands came up automatically and held Alex's face. The ache in her heart quickly spread into other parts of her. As Alex left her lips and roamed her mouth over Bridget's neck, Bridget groaned again. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her like this.

Alex settled herself comfortably over Bridget and pulled back, searching her eyes. Her brow furrowed for an instant. "Are you ok?"

Bridget hadn't known she was on the brink of tears until her eyes misted over. Alex brushed her thumb over her cheek, stopping a fallen tear in its tracks. She leaned down and replaced her thumb with her lips, gently kissing the wet spot. She looked at Bridget again. "Do you want to stop?"

Bridget had never even been asked that before. There had never been a need. She now definitely felt the tears in her eyes. Was this wrong? Was it wrong to feel like this? She shook her head. "No."

Alex ran her thumb over her lips, and Bridget caught her breath. Alex smiled at her. "I'm going to ask you that again in a moment."

Bridget nodded, and Alex leaned down again and kissed her cheek, her eyebrow, her nose, and at last, her lips. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders and fell against Bridget's face. She ran her fingers through the soft strands and pulled Alex into her, causing the other woman to hum into her mouth. As their kiss intensified, Bridget waited for Alex to move her hands, waited for her to begin that sensual exploration.

But Alex simply held her face gently and kissed her. Whenever she needed air, she would break from Bridget's lips and plant random, soft kisses over her face. When they'd caught their breath, she found Bridget's lips once again.

As Bridget opened her mouth slightly, allowing Alex to fully explore her with her tongue, Bridget found herself once again thinking of Franky. She didn't mean to. She'd had several lovers in the past, but this was the first time she thought of one woman, while another was kissing her. Franky loved to be kissed, but there was such a fire burning in her for Bridget that her hands and lips never stopped moving. If this was Franky above her, pressing into her, Bridget would already be naked. Neither of them had been able to help it.

It may have been born from all the angst when Franky was still off limits…still an inmate. The flirting, the little secret touches. The attraction had always been there. When Franky at last was free, they could never get enough of each other. Neither fought it, neither tried. There was no taking it slow. As soon as Bridget held her in her arms, finally getting to feel that olive skin against her own… _oh Franky_...

Bridget was pulled from her thoughts when Alex whispered in her ear. "There you go again, little day dreamer. What's a girl got to do to hold your attention?"

Bridget's eyes widened with embarrassment, but Alex just smiled at her and gently stroked her cheek. "You are an amazing woman, Bridget Westfall." She said softly. She heaved herself off of Bridget and sat up. She took hold of Bridget's hands and pulled her up against her. Grateful to hide her face a moment, Bridget tucked up against her shoulder and draped her arm around Alex's middle. Alex stroked her hair and a calm silence fell between them.

"Are you going to ever tell me why I lose you sometimes?"

Bridget stilled. She felt tired; emotionally exhausted and _never_ seemed a good time to talk about Franky. Her stomach was in knots. She was still reeling from kissing another woman. She remained quiet. Alex sighed and just held her. "Ok, day dreamer. It's ok." She continued to run her fingers through the blonde hair and hummed quietly to herself. Bridget held her and closed her eyes, sick of the internal battle raging within her. She wanted to have this. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to be finally able to move on.

_Right?_


	4. Chapter 4

Franky walked through Wentworth's gates, for the last damn time, and couldn't stop herself from looking for Bridget's car. With all her heart she searched for the little sedan. _Willed_ it to be there. She'd known deep down that she wouldn't see it, but her heart plummeted anyway. Of course Bridget wouldn't be there. She didn't even know Franky had been released. She didn't know that her name had been cleared…that she was truly found innocent, and subsequently set free. She didn't know because three months before she had resigned from the prison, her last words to Franky being a tearful and utterly permanent goodbye.

Franky choose to walk to the bedsit, punishing her body for miles. As good as it was to be free, such a huge part of her was missing. This was the polar opposite of her previous release. There was no one waiting for her. She had thought of calling her dad…he'd be over the moon to see her. And her little sister! She longed to snatch the little thing into the air, just to hear her squeal with delight. But she hesitated. She had done so many things in the last several months that she was ashamed of, and she needed to think. She passed shops and other people but she hardly noticed. It scared her to death that being free meant nothing without Bridget.

When she had settled herself once again in the shitty bedsit, trying to make the tiny flat into a home, she sat at the small kitchen table. The kettle was on, and as she waited for her tea she laid her head in her hands. She needed to be here for just six more months. And then she would truly be released. She could go anywhere, do anything.

Thankfully her former employer had saved her position at Legal Relief. Apparently, something like this had happened before. The team was used to their employees becoming re-offenders. Such was the program they offered. Upon hearing of Franky's innocence they were more than willing to start her up again once she had settled.

Franky drank her tea slowly. She would wait a week. She would become fully immersed back into society before seeking out Bridget. Partly it was to get reacquainted with freedom, and partly because she was rather terrified that Bridget would reject her. She had every right to. Hell, if their roles were reversed, Franky would think twice about letting someone back into her life that had willfully assaulted her and had been so cruel.

Her week of adjustment went by quickly. Everything was back as it had been before she'd been incarcerated. The bedsit, her job. Everything except the one thing that mattered most. If she ever wanted anything before, it was to be with Bridget Westfall.

During that deliberate seven days, she'd tried to talk herself out of going to Bridget's house a dozen times. Each reason she gave herself was better than the next. But she couldn't convince herself in the end, and after that first hellishly long and lonely week, on a bright Saturday morning, she'd caught the bus and headed to the west side suburbs.

She stood on Bridget's porch and knocked firmly, looking down at her feet. She had to force herself to look up as the door opened. Whatever she thought to say froze in her heart, leaving her with an open mouth and no words.

It wasn't Bridget that answered the door. It was a very attractive, mid 30's brunette. She looked as if she'd just been laughing. Her green eyes were alight with mischief and she cocked a grin behind her before turning her full attention to Franky.

"Yes? Hello."

"Who is it, baby?"

Franky's chest constricted. She knew that voice in the background; that gentle lilt of curiosity. She couldn't see around the woman in front of her, but it sounded like Bridget was moving further into the house, rather than to the door.

_Baby?_ She looked the woman in front of her. Really looked at her. Their similarities were a bit alarming. Although Franky couldn't see any tattoos, their height and build was almost identical. The green eyes. The olive skin. Had Franky not known any better, she would have assumed that this woman was a distant cousin of hers. She couldn't help but wonder what the other woman saw. Did she notice the blatant reflection?

But no, the similarities ended with appearance. She was far softer. Everything in this woman's stance, her features; even her clothing…spoke volumes. She was a gorgeous bundle of light, joyful energy. There was no darkness. No hardened lines around her features. No markers to indicate a monster within. No…history.

As Franky met her eyes she saw that her face was smoothed of anything other than kindness. There was nothing in her expression to indicate that she knew who Franky was. She waited, her head slightly tilted, her eyes still dancing from whatever Franky had interrupted. She called back over her shoulder.

"I don't know. Hang on."

The answer sounded even further away. Franky didn't catch it, but the woman in front of her did, and a slight flush rose on her cheeks. She stepped out onto the porch, closing the front door behind her, shaking her head with good-natured embarrassment. She smiled at Franky again. She was... beautiful.

"Sorry, how can I help you?"

Franky took a step back. Everything that ached to tumble out of her mouth lodged in her throat in front of this stranger. She realized with a sinking feeling that she didn't belong here anymore. She turned away. "I think I have the wrong porch…"

The other woman tilted her head again. "Can I help you find someone? Are you new in town?"

Franky continued backing away, shaking her head. She'd been a fool to come here. A bloody fool. "No…yes…no, I'm good. Sorry to bother you."

She turned hurriedly away before the woman could see her tears. She left the surprised woman on the porch, staring after her.

…

Bridget came to the front door and poked her head out. "Alex? Who was it?"

Alex shook her head as she finally turned and stepped back inside. "I don't know, she seemed…confused."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "She? Did she give a name?"

Alex shrugged and draped her long arms around Bridget's neck. "No…she just looked at me…weird, like she was trying to recognize me. Said she had the wrong porch."

She then laughed lightly, kissing Bridget's forehead. "She was kinda hot, Bridge. Killer tats. I should have invited her in…"

Her playful suggestion did not have the desired effect. The older woman in her arms frowned, her brow furrowed. A flash of surprise, and then sadness crossing her normally jovial features. She stepped out of Alex's arms absentmindedly and turned away.

"Franky?" She said softly, more to herself.

Alex watched a flurry of unrecognizable emotions flood the older woman's face. She reached out and took Bridget's shoulders.

"Hey, hey, you right? Bridge, what is it? Did you know her?"

Bridget shook herself and pulled her into a firm hug. "It's nothing, baby."

Alex rubbed her back soothingly. "Doesn't seem like nothing, but you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, ok? Just know I'm here for you."

Bridget pressed into the other woman's chest. Alex was too fucking special. She was calm and reliable, and she was careful to express herself clearly. She said when they first met at the pub that she wasn't interested in hiding who she was or what she was feeling. It was her confidence in herself that first drew Bridget to her. She didn't play games. She was focused and easy going. She didn't have demons simmering beneath the surface. She was gentle and kind and Bridget just found her to be the perfect balm to her broken soul. Bridget had never mentioned Franky, and Alex never pressed her on why she stared off into space sometimes, always with the same sad expression. As Alex rocked her, her mind wandered to the locked doors of her heart, firmly ripping them open and not caring about the pain and heartbreak that poured through.

_Franky?_


	5. Chapter 5

Bridget waited a few days before finally making the drive to the bedsit. She had waited until she knew Alex had her night class and work study immediately after. On nights like these Alex was always too exhausted to come by, and Bridget wouldn't see her until the following day. She didn't like the sneaking around, but what was she to do? Ignore the fact that Franky was back? That she'd come looking for her? Bridget knocked firmly. After a moment, Franky answered the door and froze. Bridget stood equally as still.

"You're out." Bridget stated.

"I am."

They could only look at each other for a long moment, their history flashing in each of their minds. There was so much. Too much. Franky realized that she was blocking the doorway, and stepped aside. "Do you want to come in?"

Bridget hesitated, and then nodded. She stepped past Franky and had to force herself to keep moving. The brunette's proximity was almost overwhelming. She was like a bloody magnet! She knew Franky felt it too. The younger woman twitched as if to reach out for her, but changed her mind. The very air cracked with their electric attraction. Just being in the same room with each other was confusing.

Franky closed the door and moved into the small kitchenette to put on the kettle. Bridget sat slowly at the tiny kitchen table and watched as Franky made them tea. She moved in fluid motions, but Bridget could tell she was uncomfortable. She wondered what this meeting would be like if Franky hadn't come by the house the other day and inadvertently met Alex. What must be going through her mind? Disappointment? Betrayal? How lost and alone must she be feeling? She'd obviously been found innocent, and released immediately. How validating for her! As Bridget watched her prepare their tea, she frowned. Everything could be as it was before she was falsely arrested. Franky had come to her house, perhaps hoping to pick up where they had left off.

But Alex had happened. Two months didn't seem long enough to move on from someone like Franky, and it wasn't. But Bridget found herself thinking of Alex more and more, Franky moving just a little farther away from the front of her thoughts.

Bridget looked down at her folded hands. Franky had been in prison, and everything had been so hopeless. She'd completely rejected any attempts Bridget had tried in helping her. Bridget resigned and did her best to drink her sorrows away and move on. And Alex was suddenly there. And she was…wonderful. It was pretty damn confusing. Her brain twisted miserably ever since she'd realized that it was Franky that had come to her door…perhaps trying to come home.

The silence between them was heavy, loaded with everything that had ever happened between them. Neither seemed anxious to break the silence. When Franky finally turned around holding two streaming mugs, she handed one to Bridget and took the remaining chair opposite her at the table. She felt a terrible lump in her throat and tried to settle her nerves by sipping the scalding tea. She only succeeded in burning her tongue.

Bridget wrapped her hands around the cup. "How long have you been out?"

"A bit over a week."

"I didn't know."

"I know."

Bridget brought the tea to her lips and burned her tongue as well. Franky noticed and smiled slightly. "Sorry."

Bridget returned the small smile. "Why didn't you stay the other day? Why did you leave?"

Franky looked down at her tea cup. "I don't know. You had…company."

"Alex."

Franky looked up at her. "Is she your girlfriend?" She couldn't hold Bridget's eye. She looked away.

Bridget heard the quiet accusation. She looked at her sharply. "Franky…"

Franky shrugged as if it didn't matter. Her walls were firmly in place. "It's just a question, Gidge."

Bridget sucked in a breath at her nickname. She hadn't heard it in months. She felt inexplicably ashamed, and she didn't like the feeling. They had broken up three months ago. It wasn't as if Bridget sought after the first brunette she met! Alex just…happened. She felt her hackles rise. Hadn't Franky been the one to drive her away? Hadn't she attacked her, frightened her, and yelled at her? Hell, almost from the moment of her most recent incarceration she had blocked out Bridget completely. She had refused help. She continuously lied. She jeopardized Bridget's career multiple times. In the end, she had succeeded. Bridget couldn't take it anymore. She'd packed up her things and left Wentworth…and Franky behind.

Bridget tried to get a handle on all the emotions bubbling to the surface. She wanted to shout. She wanted to break her normally calm poise and clear the table with one sweep of her arm. She wanted to shake Franky until her face reflected what Bridget knew she was feeling inside, instead of that guarded, deadpan look. Deeper down in her heart, she wanted to feel Franky against her, skin to skin, and become one again with her. As she thought these last, softer, thoughts, she felt anger disintegrate. She felt tired.

"What did you expect me to do?" She asked quietly. "Every time I came near you, you pushed me away. You frightened me, Franky. You really hurt me. I couldn't recognize you anymore." She looked at Franky. "I couldn't recognize myself anymore. What did you think would happen?"

Franky frowned at her unhappily. There was a bite in her tone. "I certainly didn't expect you to shack up with the first Franky look-alike you came across."

Bridget sucked in a breath, familiar pain stabbing into her heart. She pushed her mug away and stood. "It was a mistake coming here."

Franky stood quickly too, remorse flashing across her face, ripping through her wall. "Shit! No, I'm sorry, Gidge. Please. It…she just surprised me. You deserve to be happy." She searched Bridget's eyes. "Are you? Happy?"

Bridget laughed humorlessly at her. Was that really what she'd wanted to ask? Her blue eyes begged Franky to talk to her. Really talk to her. "Franky, why did you come to my house?"

Franky looked desperately at her. "I don't know. I wanted to see ya. Let you know I was free."

Bridget frowned. That simply wasn't enough. If Franky couldn't show her that what they had was worth fighting for, Bridget didn't have the energy to draw it out of her. Her mind flashed to Alex, and how easily she conveyed what she was feeling. With Franky, it was like pulling teeth. Bridget sighed.

"Well thank you. Congratulations."

There was a stiffness in her words that Franky seemed to find unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opened them, Bridget sucked in another breath. The walls were gone. "Because I love you. Because I want you in my life. Because I'm not complete without you." The words tumbled from her mouth quickly. "I fucking love you." She said again, almost inaudibly. She stepped forward and took Bridget's hands. "God I love you, Gidge. I am so sorry for how I treated you. Please, please tell me you can forgive me? Please tell me that I haven't lost you?"

Bridget look down at the hands holding her own. "Franky, what we had…" She couldn't finish that train of thought. This was so fucking painful! All she had wanted was to hear those words. To really hear them and believe them. Now that she had, and Franky had allowed herself to be vulnerable, all Bridget could feel was frustration. She shook her hands free. It was her turn to be honest, and relieve the awful pressure in her chest. What had really bothered her for months.

"Franky, at the first sign of trouble we fell apart! We literally collapsed. And you…" Bridget tried to soften her tone. The sudden agonized look she was receiving was hard to see. But she had to say this, and Franky needed to hear it. "You made it abundantly clear that you didn't need…or want me anymore.

Franky stepped forward, her face earnest, desperate to explain and be understood. "No! Don't you get it? Jesus, Gidge I was trying to save us! Me, you, your job, our life together! What was I supposed to do? Shoot you to the board for the sake of an alibi? I couldn't do that to you! Not after everything!"

Bridget just shook her head and put up her hand. "I know. I know why you did what you did."

She sighed and sadness crept into her face. "But Franky, you choose to do what you did. You didn't give me an option. The path you choose, regardless of intent, was one that you choose for us both."

Franky closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, backing up a step and clearly distressed. "I was losing my mind, Gidge." She said quietly. "I thought I would lose you, my freedom…everything. I panicked. I thought I had to be the old me, just to survive. I was heartbroken. Confused. A bloody idiot!"

She started to cry, and didn't bother wiping her tears away. "Honestly, Gidge, I didn't believe I'd ever get out of there. I couldn't see how I'd ever be let go, not after all the evidence against me. Not after I kept things from the police to protect you and Shane. I thought I'd spend the next twenty years behind bars. I felt. ..I felt like I was already dead."

Franky backed up another step and wiped her eyes. "I hadn't even been back for a day when Ferguson threatened you. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone using you to get to me. I couldn't bear the thought of me being inside my whole life while you were out here alone."

Franky laughed a little. "But you were so fucking stubborn! It was killing me. I…I didn't want you to waste your life. I would have rather you be angry with me and live out your life happy than promising to wait twenty years for me to get back out."

Bridget took a tentative step forward and rested her hand lightly on Franky's arm, causing the brunette to look at her.

"Franky, I'm not angry with you. Well…not anymore. I promise. But understanding why you did what you did to me and putting myself in that position again are two very different things. I didn't know Ferguson threatened me through you. I didn't _know_ any of what you just told me because Franky, you didn't _tell_ me!"

Franky nodded. "I know. It's my fault, Gidge. All of this. And believe me if I could take it all back. .." She jammed her fists in her eyes, trying to stop the fresh flow of tears. "The only way I could even keep breathing…knowing what I'd done to you…was knowing you might find happiness apart from me." She smiled sadly. "And...you have, hey?"

Bridget thought of Alex, but didn't answer. Franky leaned against the kitchen table.

"Do you still love me?"

The question caught Bridget off guard. She was still processing the uncharacteristic openness of the brunette's confessions. "Of course I do…"

Franky stepped forward again and matched Bridget's retreat until the blonde's back was against the wall. "Then don't leave me." She cupped Bridget's face tenderly. At last feeling the skin she desperately desired. "Stay with me, Gidge. Please. Give us another chance."  
Franky gently stroked Bridget's cheeks, holding her stare, searching her eyes. They were inches apart. Bridget could feel the heated air between them.

She leaned her head away as Franky leaned in closer. "Step back." She whispered. "Please."

It took a moment for Franky to understand, but when she did, she closed her eyes briefly and dropped her hands to her sides. She stepped away. Bridget moved away from the wall and walked to the front door.

Franky suddenly grabbed her arm and Bridget gasped in shock and surprise when Franky pulled her into a fierce hug. She felt a burn in her lower belly at the sudden contact. For an instant Bridget clutched her just as tightly, etching the feel of Franky's body pressing against her own into her memory. This smell. This touch. These hands. This woman… _god it had always been this woman!_ She let out a low cry as Franky held her tightly. She could feel the other woman's tears on her neck. "Don't go. Please. Don't give up on me, Gidge."

Bridget felt her heart melt. She could easily stay in Franky's arms forever. But not tonight. She needed to think. "Let me go."

Franky shook her head. "Gidge…"

Bridget had bent her arms against Franky's chest. Her back was now rigid. It was like holding an awkward pile of cardboard. She was trying to control her breathing. "Franky, you need to let me go. Please." _Jesus, quick before I lose my fucking mind_. ..

Franky blew out a sharp breath and dropped her arms again. Bridget put distance between them quickly. Letting her go…again…was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Franky looked miserable. "Ok, Gidge. It's ok. I don't deserve you. I never did."

Bridget shook her head at the brunette, compassion flooding her heart but Franky stopped her from responding. "I want to be the kind of woman you deserve, Bridget. I know that I've lost your trust. I know I might have lost your heart." Franky looked away and then turned her eyes to meet Bridget's. "I'm working on myself, Gidge. For me. I know the kind of person I want to be. I want…. _need_ to be that person. I've been either a victim of someone else, captive to my own anger or a fucking criminal all my life. I want more than that to shape who I am. I want to be good."

Bridget smiled at her, pride glowing on her face. "Oh baby, you are good."

Franky wiped a tear quickly from her cheek. "You've always believed that. Now I want to."

Franky slowly reached out and after a second of hesitation, Bridget came near. Franky lightly placed her hands on her shoulders and drew her into a hug. Not the desperate, passionate embrace of a few moments ago. A softer touch, full of hope, sadness and promise.

Bridget held her and let herself breathe deeply the real scent of Franky…not just the clothes that hung in her closet at home.

"You are the only woman I've ever let myself love." Franky whispered in her hair. "I want you to know that I love you enough to let you go, if that's what you want."

Bridget rested her cheek against Franky chest, feeling her heartbeat thumping in her ear. She needed to get out of the little kitchen before she never left again. "I need to think."

Franky nodded and let her go. Bridget looked one last time into the face she'd never stopped loving before turning and leaving the bedsit. As she walked back to her car, she suddenly realized that this was the very first time Franky had simply talked to her without using her charm, wit or sex appeal to get what she wanted. It wasn't as if in any of their previous interactions she'd been manipulative…but this was the moment that Bridget, in her own hurt, had really needed her lay herself bare. As hard as it was to be vulnerable, Franky had done it…had just shown her a glimpse of the woman she was striving to be.


	6. Chapter 6

Bridget pulled into her driveway fairly late. When she opened the front door and walked into the kitchen she immediately pulled a bottle of wine from the cabinet. She hadn't wanted to drink a whole bottle in months, but now, as she poured herself a large glass, she realized that the one bottle would never be enough. Not with Franky back in town, bringing with her a boiling flood of desire and pain. Bridget downed her first glass and quickly poured another. Her guilt was eating at her heart. She'd let another woman into her life. Laughed with her. Kissed her. Made out with her a dozen times on the same couch she'd made love to with Franky. Had she been so unfair to the memory of her time with Franky? Had she been so terribly wrong to want to bypass extended grief and share something beautiful with Alex?

Bridget slammed her now empty glass on the island, again filling it to the brim. Her body was getting warm. Was she wrong? No! Franky was GONE. Forever. She was in prison and Bridget would never EVER see her again because that was what Franky had wanted. So what had just happened? Did she really just have tea in that shitty bedsit with Franky Doyle? Did she really just hear every word she'd ever craved come from the only lips she wanted to hear them from? Did she really get jerked passionately into Franky's arms and squeezed until she couldn't breathe? _What the fuck had just happened?_

Franky was free. Franky loved her and had sought her out. She seemed different...so passionate and open, but somehow subdued. She knew there was an Alex in the picture now.

Bridget had just moved from the kitchen to the living room taking the bottle of wine with her when her doorbell rang.

_FrankyFrankyFranky! Dammit didn't see say she needed to think?_

She tripped as she went to the front door. The wine had definitely settled into her system and she giggled to herself. How fucking hot would it be to just grab Franky and fuck her right there against the kitchen door?

_Get a grip, Bridget._

But her heart raced. Her knees felt weak. Her skin was flushed. She could still smell the real Franky on her skin, and she couldn't help the shiver of desire that ran through her body. She opened the door and was taken aback by Alex's huge grin. Alex held out a bottle of wine.

"Boss gave me the night off. Thought we could celebrate?"

Bridget was still in shock. This wasn't Franky. She squinted. Was it? Alex noticed her hesitation, and her glassy eyes.

"Hey, are you ok? Bridge, what's wrong?"

The problem was she couldn't think. There were no life skills this far that had taught her how to deal with this. There was no textbook response to the confusing jumble of feelings and thoughts pounding in her head. Her brain was so mixed up and her body was so pent up that when she met Alex at the door she pushed her into the wall and kissed her hard.

Alex gasped into her and tried to slow her down, talk to her, but for once Bridget didn't want to talk. She wanted to feel something real, totally apart from her mind. Her body thudded with desire and she crushed herself against the Alex lips and the Franky body and completely shut out all the thoughts tumbling over themselves to be heard.

Alex tried to stop her at first, but Bridget recognized the darkened eyes with their wrong shade of green and continued to push Alex further into the house...towards her bedroom. She'd pushed Alex back on the bed and when she fell on top of her Alex gripped her hands. She was breathing hard from Bridget's assault. "Hey, hey…wait…"

Bridget hovered over her, her deep blue eyes boring into her. Her voice was rough with her arousal. "Don't you want me?"

Ales frowned. "Yes, but Jesus, slow down! Something is clearly bothering you."

Bridget shook her head still fighting to clear her thoughts. She leaned down and brushed her lips against Alex's. "Everything is fine, baby."

Alex was still rather stiff under her. She tentatively reached up to brush a strand of blonde hair away from Bridget's eyes. She wanted to see them more clearly. "Bridget, you can talk to me. What happened today?"

"I don't want to talk. I want you."

Alex was still frowning. "I can see that." She squirmed underneath Bridget to indicate her discomfort, but Bridget didn't move. Alex lifted her chin. "I'm sorry, but I don't want our first time to be like this."

_First time?_ Bridget had to shake her head to remember who she was with. Thoughts crept into her mind again and she ripped off her own shirt to stop them. She knew every inch of this body beneath her. _Didn't she?_ She touched Alex's face, tracing the outline of her cheek. Feeling the heat coming off of her olive skin. She eyes glazed over and her brain was slammed with the sudden erotic memories she'd had in this bed. She leaned down again.

"Touch me," she growled. Her hands already trying to unbutton Alex's shirt, adamantly kissing every inch of exposed skin. Alex grabbed her hands again. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

"Bridget, the fuck? Please stop!"

Bridget ripped her hands free and tore open Alex's shirt. For a split second she thought back to the time in Franky's cell, when her lover viciously tore her shirt open, despite Bridget's pleas for her to stop. She froze at the memory, and the sight of the wide green eyes beneath her. Her brow wrinkled in consternation as she stared down at the heaving chest. A long bright white scar ran from just between Alex's breasts down to her sternum. Just over her heart was a ragged circular scar where the bullet had entered. Bridget sat back, startled. _Where was the dice tattoo? Where were the Lotus blossoms?_

Her thoughts finally slammed through the barrier she'd tried to create. _This is ALEX, you asshole!_

Bridget covered her mouth, horrified. Confused. Alex looked up at her, hands balled into fists on either side of her head. She slowly gathered her shirt around her chest and covered her scars. Her eyes were large with shame and sadness. Bridget quickly got off of her and backed away from the bed.

"Alex…Shit! I'm sorry!"

Alex sat up, clutching her shirt closed. She was still catching her breath. She looked away from Bridget. "I told you I had scars."

Bridget had a hand over her mouth. Alex thought she'd been turned off by her scars. She felt ashamed that her actions had conveyed this. "No, no, no! Baby, I'm so sorry. It's wasn't that. You are so beautiful!"

Alex finally looked at her. "Bridge, what's gotten into you? What the hell was that?"

Bridget backed away from her and shook her head miserably. The wine in her system shrouding her judgement and poise. "I just fucking miss…"

_Franky._

She flapped her arms in frustration and then covered her eyes and wept. _The fuck was happening?_

Alex got up and went over to her. "Bridge, you can have this. You can have me. You just…scared me a little."

Bridget nodded and wiped her eyes. Alex was looking at her with deep concern. "I'm sorry."

Bridget took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been a grave error to begin to fall for Alex. There were too many physical similarities between her and Franky. Hadn't that been what first drew her attention in the pub? The long brunette hair, the olive skin, the green eyes? Jesus, even their height and build were the same. If Franky was standing here next to Alex in the dark, Bridget wasn't certain she could tell them apart. That night in the pub, knowing that Franky was going to be in prison for a long time, knowing that they had parted ways…however brokenly…Bridget had seen a second chance in happiness in Alex.

_The first Franky look alike you came across._

Franky's accusation hadn't been wrong. In truth Bridget had wanted Alex from that first night. It was torture to wait and process and allow her mind and body to recognize that Alex was _not_ Franky. Odds were she would never see Franky again. Yet here in front of her was a stunning…albeit different…replica of what she'd just lost a few months ago. She naturally gravitated towards her. And then, after only a few months, Bridget really _was_ drawn to Alex…not just because her body was achingly similar to Franky…but because Alex herself was an incredible human.

After Alex had met Franky on the porch, Bridget had to know for certain if it was her. She had to know if Franky had been released. So while Alex was at the shops, she phoned Vera. It was a fairly short conversation. Evidence had been found, Franky was exonerated, and subsequently released. When Bridget hung up the phone she felt numb. One of the very first things that Franky had done was come for her. Only it wasn't Bridget she'd met at the door, but someone who could have been her twin. Alex had said she looked confused, but Bridget knew better. Franky's mind was too sharp and she was rarely confused. No, she had been putting two and two together.

_Is she your girlfriend?_

The pained look on her face had been utterly transparent. Not only had Bridget moved on after such a short time, but she had moved on with a woman who in all appearances equaled another Franky.

When Bridget had seen that look she knew she had to leave. She had no explanation for Alex, and she didn't want to give one. The reason was obvious. She was heartbroken and alone, and her body responded to Alex's gentle soul. And there lay the complication. Bridget knew Franky. She knew what made her tick, what made her angry, what made her laugh from deep in her belly. She knew every glint of mischief in her mesmerizing green eyes. She knew her touch, her smell, her secrets and her demons. She _knew_ Franky, inside and out. Being so near to her tonight almost blasted through all the boundaries she'd created before knocking on the bedsit door.

The second part of her confusion was that there was something about Alex that also drew Bridget's attention. Maybe it was that she came into her life when she desperately needed someone. The psychologist in Bridget didn't misplace the awareness of such a bond. There was something deeply intimate about connecting with someone after a tragedy.

_Was that what Alex was to her then?_ Bridget frowned. But it made perfect sense. She shook her head again and bit her lip. That was a bond that just couldn't be broken. Alex was there when she needed something more than one of her friends. And now, as Bridget stood in her bedroom surrounded by Franky's things, she realized that she didn't _want_ to lose Alex. Did she love her? No, not yet. But they had been together long enough now to know that something beautiful could come out of their relationship if they chose it. However the universe worked, it had offered Bridget a second chance at happiness.

But that was when Franky was lost in the system. Now she was free. And she had come searching for her love almost from the moment she was released. She didn't pine away in a pub and bring home the first blonde she saw. She pushed through her insecurities and the possibility of rejection and sought Bridget out.

Bridget's heart had melted at the sight of her at the bedsit. She was stiff, guarded…a different version of herself because she'd met Alex. But then, in fear that Bridget would leave, she had opened herself up and had unashamedly lain her heart at Bridget's feet. Her last confession was a final plea for Bridget to understand her love.

_I love you enough to let you go, if that's what you want._

Bridget felt tears in her eyes again. She was suddenly pulled from her revere when Alex stepped forward and wrapped her in her arms. "Shh, shh. It's ok, day-dreamer, I've got you." She rocked Bridget in a calming cadence. "Tell me what you need."

Bridget looked up at her, shaking with the flood of tenderness she felt for two completely different women. "I don't know." She whispered truthfully.

"Bridget…tell me what happened to you." She ran a thumb over one of Bridget's eyes. "Tell me why these are the saddest eyes I've ever seen?"

But Bridget shook her head minutely. Alex took her chin. "Is it about Franky?"

"No."

The lie burrowed itself firmly between them. Alex narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you. That was her that showed up on the porch the other day, wasn't it? When were you going to tell me that I inadvertently met _the_ Franky Doyle?"

Alex laughed humorlessly. "I should have recognized her. I should have, but I didn't. When you said it was nothing, like an idiot I believed you."

Bridget stepped back. "How did you know?"

Alex turned away from her. "You were a prison Psych, Bridget. Franky shows up on your doorstep. I didn't know at first but something clicked. I did a quick google search and there she was, the famous Franky Doyle." She looked back at Bridget. "You and her. An _inmate,_ for Christ's sake!"

Bridget felt deceived, and the need to defend herself rose up in her. "Nothing happened until she was released! And you knew…from that day? Why didn't you say anything?"

Alex threw up her hands in frustration. "It's not like I didn't try to get you to talk to me, Bridge! And all I figured out was that you and her had something when she got out. Then she was back in prison…for murder! I can put two and two together to know that it killed you inside to lose her."

She lowered her voice. "But reading stories and coming to my own conclusions is not what I wanted with you. I wanted you to tell me, from your side, what happened. I wasn't going to judge you. I just wanted you to trust me with that part of you." She frowned, sudden sadness marring her face. "But you couldn't. Or you didn't. Fuck, Bridget, I don't know."

She turned and walked out of the bedroom, heading for the front door. Bridget chased after her and took her arm, desperate for her to stop. She grabbed her without thinking and for a split second she thought the other woman would become violent. _Like Franky_. Fear widened her eyes when Alex turned.

But Alex wasn't violent. She didn't have the horrific past that Franky had. She'd never resorted to violence in her life. She simply froze under Bridget's touch and then carefully shrugged her arm free. Even so hurt and angry she wouldn't hurt Bridget.

Alex noticed the flash of fear. "Jesus, I'm not going to hit you, Bridge! I just don't want to share a bed with you until I'm certain you know who's in it!"

She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Did _she_ ever hit you?"

Bridget shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Alex sighed through her nose, clearly not believing her.

But Bridget just shook her head, suddenly so overly tired and emotionally drained. It wasn't fair, to stay in limbo. It wasn't fair to the three hearts involved. She alone needed to decide. The problem was that she just simply didn't know. The half bottle of wine she'd drunk before Alex showed up was certainly not helping.

Alex's naturally kind face filled with compassion. She reached out and put her hands on Bridget's shoulders. "Regardless of Franky, I don't want to just fuck you, Bridget. Not tonight. Not ever. That isn't what you mean to me, ok?"

Bridget nodded, shame still mottling her features. She needed to stop drinking so much. She was going to destroy everything good in her life. Self-loathing crept into her heart. It was an uncomfortable and foreign emotion. She bit her tongue. "And what if that's what I need from you?"

Alex stepped back, holding her at arm's length. "What? To be just fucked?"

Bridget wasn't sure if she could hate herself more when she nodded. Alex dropped her arms to her sides. "I can't do that."

A flash of anger shot across Bridget's face. "Why not? You asked me what I needed. I need this!"

Alex folded her arms across her chest. Her tone was firm. "No. Not like this. Not when you are angry, or hurting, or whatever the fuck you are right now. Not when you've been drinking."

Bridget threw up her arms and continued the path to the front door. "Fine. I think you should go."

Alex followed her, grabbing her arm to stop her, to force eye contact. "Why are you angry with me?" She asked.

Bridget pulled her arm free. "I'm not." She snapped. She realized the foolishness of her response even as it came out of her mouth. "I just…I'm sorry, ok?"

Alex sighed and leaned against wall. "Bridge, I'll go, if that's what you want. But sooner or later I'm going to need you to talk to me. I…I can't keep falling for you if you won't let me in."

Bridget pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. How many times had she begged Franky to let her in? How long did it take for Franky to finally trust Bridget with her thought, feelings and secrets? Certainly longer than a month. She released her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, mirroring Alex's pose earlier. Her face smoothed of emotion and her inflection was cool. "You should go."

Hurt crumbled Alex's features. "Bridge…"

"GO!"

Alex pushed herself from the wall and walked past Bridget's stiff body. "You are a cruel woman, Bridget Westfall." She whispered. And then she was gone. Bridget waited for several minutes before she went into the kitchen. The wine Alex had brought her still stood unopened on the counter, next to the bottle she'd previously started on. She picked up the unopened bottle quickly and threw it with all her might against the refrigerator. It exploded red wine and shards of green glass all over the kitchen floor. She then threw the opened bottle with equal force. With a scream she ripped open the kitchen cabinets and began to throw things at random, venting all her frustrations out on boxes of pasta and canned goods. When the cabinet contents were littered all over the floor, Bridget turned her anger towards the kitchen table and upended it, sending mail and fruit flying. She then sank to her knees and put her head down, letting her tears fall. She was exactly what Alex accused her of.

_You are a cruel woman, Bridget Westfall._


	7. Chapter 7

The knock on the door was loud. Too loud. And the kitchen floor was too fucking hard. She must have passed out after… _oh, fuck…Alex!_ There were no words right now to describe Bridget's self-loathing. There was another knock on her front door. Bridget fought blurry eyes and a pounding head as she gingerly pushed herself to her feet. Her clothes were wrinkled and bits of her was stained red from laying in a puddle of wine all night. She felt ill. Drunk ill. However much she drank last night still lingered in her system. The curse of being a lightweight. She hoped against all hope that it was just the postman at her door, delivering something. She carefully stepped over the broken glass shards and everything else that littered the floor. _What a fucking mess!_

When she opened the door her heart leapt in her throat. Franky stood there, the real Franky. She was wearing a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry I didn't call, I don't have a phone yet. I was hoping to get some of my clothes?" She looked up at Bridget and what she saw in her face made her quickly take the few steps it took to gather her into her arms. Bridget didn't bother to fight her. She simply had nothing left. Franky held her tightly, wrinkling her nose and rather alarmed. Bridget smelled of a lot of stale wine.

"Gidget? What is it? What's wrong?"

But Bridget had had enough. She was too hung over and too emotionally spent to answer. She just shook her head and wrapped her arms around Franky, soaking in her supportive arms. Franky mumbled "shit" under her breath. "Gidge, let's go into the house. Come on."

Bridget gripped her tighter and shook her head. If she let go, Frank would disappear. Alarm was definitely Franky's largest emotion. She'd seen and felt this kind of panic before, just never from this woman in her arms. Bridget didn't panic. She didn't come apart.

Franky loosened her grip slightly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'm not leaving you." She said softly. She muttered other words of encouragement until Bridget finally loosened her arms and allowed Franky to move them into the house. With one arm protectively around the blonde's shoulders, Franky looked wide eyed in the kitchen. Broken glass littered the floor, wine was splattered everywhere. Cabinets were opened and their contents were strewn haphazardly around the floor. The kitchen table had been upended. Franky sucked in a breath.

"Gidge?" She asked quietly. "What…?"

Bridget finally let her go and with her head down walked towards the bedroom. Franky heard the door close. She stood in the kitchen, still looking around, and frowned. This was not what she'd pictured when she'd imagined Bridget living her life to the fullest without her. She went to the pantry and took out the broom and began to sweep the broken, sticky glass off of the floor. Then she mopped the floor and scrubbed the fridge, walls and counter tops. As she cleaned, she felt her alarm turn to sadness, and then to anger. This was definitely _not_ what she imagined.

Honestly, it had been a shock to see Alex answer the door a few days ago. Even though that's all Franky could have hoped for, it still put rocks in the pit of her stomach. Sure, there was a part of her that had wanted Bridget to miss her and ache for her, but hadn't she forcefully pushed her from her life? Pushed her to resign?

_Pushed her to drink?_ What was it that Bridget had said to her the other night? _What did you think would happen?_ Franky, in her hurt, had thought of the other woman.

When she had knocked on the front door the other day, wearing her hope on her sleeve, and a laughing brunette had answered the door, Franky had felt so lost. More alone than she'd ever felt before. It wasn't always a good thing to get what you wanted. But it seemed now, she thought as she righted the table, that Bridget had meant that she'd come undone. She may have gone pub diving and brought another woman home, but this certainly wasn't what happily ever after looked like.

Franky continued to clean up the kitchen. _Now what?_ There was no laughing brunette in the house. There was no gentle lilted voice calling her 'baby' from the hallway. There was only the semi drunk love of her life, most likely passed out on the bed. Franky doubted that she'd even remember who was at the door. To be fair, she should have waited until she got a phone. She should have called first, and talked to Bridget properly instead of just showing up on her doorstep. She'd caught her at the tail end of something Bridget wouldn't want her to see.

Franky finally was satisfied with her work. The kitchen was once again spotless and in order. She ran the dishwasher for good measure and then walked to the bedroom. She set her jaw. Had Alex done this? Had they fought? Or was this what Bridget had become after she'd left Wentworth? Franky had come here to get some of her things, but now she wasn't going to leave until Bridget threw her out.

When she reached the closed bedroom door she knocked softly and, hearing nothing, she opened it. Bridget was sprawled across the bed, face down and sound asleep. Franky hesitated for a moment, and then went to her side, stroking her cheek and brushing her hair from her face. Bridget didn't move. Franky looked at the clock, shrugged and walked out of the bedroom. She grabbed a book from the shelf in the living room and plopped herself down in her favorite plush chair and began to read. When Bridget woke up they could talk, and Franky would either get her things and go, or she would leave everything as it was and stay. The fate of her fragile heart and tentative future depended on Bridget.

Franky had barely settled into the third chapter of her book when the front door opened. She narrowed her eyes and immediately got out of her chair. She hadn't bothered to lock the door. _Woe be the fucker who broke into this house!_ Muscles tense, she crept into the kitchen. Her eyebrows shot up. "The fuck?"

Alex looked equally surprised. "What…what are you doing here?"

Franky folded her arms. "What's it to you? I didn't break in, if that's what you were thinking."

Alex shook her head, confused. "No…no I just forgot my sketchbook last night."

Franky nodded to the clean kitchen. "So you _were_ the reason the kitchen was destroyed?"

"What? No! I didn't know…where's Bridget?"

"Sleeping."

Alex took a step forward and then froze. Something on Franky's face warned her to just stay put. "Franky, right? Franky Doyle? It's ok. I just want my book. I'll call Bridget later, ok?"

Franky frowned and then shrugged. Alex quickly scanned the kitchen and moved to go into the living room. She moved cautiously, realizing that she was in the presence of a startled former inmate. Everything she had read about Franky didn't seem far off just by looking at her steely posture and cool gaze. Bridget had fallen hard for her, but honestly, as intimidating as Franky was, Alex couldn't see how. Bridget was so gentle. This woman in front of her was poised like a snake. It was unnerving to turn her back, but Alex took a breath and went into the living room. She wanted to demand why Franky was there, in Bridget's house. She wanted to know why she'd come at all. But in truth she knew the answer. She came because she was in love. She was in the house because Bridget had let her in. Another shard of Alex's heart broke, joining the other broken bit from last night. It had all happened so fast! She'd seen Bridget's eyes and knew she'd been drinking...but the way she looked at her! It was like she didn't recognize Alex, or didn't want to...and she _hadn't cared._ She was angry that Alex had refused her. That hurt for sure. Alex had never and would never take advantage of someone...let alone someone she was falling for. Bridget didn't seem to care last night who she was. The thought made Alex sick. Her little day-dreamer. Ha. She now knew the reason for that far off look. It was staring daggers at her back while she searched for her book. Alex sighed. They had no reason to dislike each other, Franky and herself. Apart from falling for the same woman. She tried to remember that as she gathered her thoughts and heart together.

Her sketchbook was laying on the floor near the bedroom hall. She'd been holding it when Bridget assaulted her last night. She must have dropped it there without thinking. How she'd managed to set the bottle of wine on the island was beyond her. She reached down and picked up the book, feeling Franky staring at her. Alex set her jaw before she turned around. She was not afraid of this woman. Somewhere underneath that tough exterior was a soul that Bridget had loved deeply. _Definitely still did._

When Alex turned, she raked her eyes obviously over Franky's body, and Franky raised an eyebrow.

Alex sighed. "Well she has a type, doesn't she?"

Franky didn't say anything. This was definitely not an interaction she'd expected. Alex met her eyes and to Franky's surprise they were full of compassion. "The problem with you," she started, and held up a hand when Franky narrowed her eyes. "Is that a little Google search will bare more personal information and painfully detailed history on you than anyone else in this town." She smiled rather sadly. "Which is my only advantage over you, Franky."

"Put two and two together, did you? Congratulations." Franky snorted contemptuously at her. "An inmate and a prison psych. We're a fucking fairytale, hey?"

Alex shrugged. "Whatever you had meant something to Bridget. It meant a lot to her. I want to respect what you meant to her, but on the same hand I really don't want her to revert back to the woman I met a few months ago."

"What the fuck do you want, Alex?"

"I wanted you to know me. To see that I am a good person."

Franky shook her head. "Honestly, I could give a fuck who you are."

The other woman frowned. "I was hoping you would just hear me out, but if you don't want to, then that's fine. You obviously had a pretty serious thing going on with Bridget before you were sent to prison." She took a nervous breath. "I'd…I'd prefer it if you would please stay away from us. We're happy."

Franky huffed at her. "Not from what I saw when she opened the front door for me this morning. And it's not your call, mate. It's Bridget's. And mine. More than you have tried to separate us in the past. All have failed."

Alex raised her hands. "Franky, that wasn't a threat, or a challenge. It was a request. I know what you and Bridget had must have been special, but when I came into the picture, you were her past. It's unfair of you to pop up unannounced and disrupt what Bridget and I are enjoying together."

Franky scowled at her. "You will never understand what her and I share. What's it been, a few months? Head over heels, are you? Fuck off. She's my fucking soul mate."

"And yet, after just one month apart from you she chose to take me home." Alex said softly.

Franky had no answer for that. She didn't like that this woman was slowly pulling her heart to bits.

Alex cocked her head, studying her. _What had Bridget seen in this ferocious woman?_ "I don't get between lovers, Franky, but the other day when you showed up on the porch was the first time I'd even heard of you. Before then, for two months, she didn't mention you once. And believe me, we've had some long conversations." She softened her infection at the pain she saw flash across Franky's face. "I'm sorry. I really am. When I met her she was single, and I can't walk away from her just because you've been released from prison. I don't want to. Not now, and if she allows it, then not ever. Please respect that."

Franky's face was stone, and didn't look at her. "Fuck off." She wanted nothing more to do with this woman. This impostor. Her imagination was already working in angry overdrive as she thought of Bridget sharing her time…her attention...her bed, with anyone other than herself. She was rapidly thinking of ways to bodily throw Alex from the house without breaching her parole conditions.

Alex signed held out her sketch book for Franky to take. The other woman raised her brow skeptically, and Alex only said, "have a look."

Franky huffed at her but took the book anyway, and tossed it onto the kitchen table. When she opened it she gasped.

The most magnificent replication of her beloved Gidge stared back at her. If Franky hadn't known better she would have thought Red had drawn it. Franky sucked in a breath as she stared at the drawing of the woman she loved most in the world. She couldn't help but reach out and trace her face, her jawline, her silky hair. And her eyes. Franky's jaw clenched. She recognized that sadness. It was perfectly ingrained in her memory…that terrible, heartbroken look.

"Keep going." Alex whispered. She watched as Franky tenderly traced her drawing of Bridget's face as though she were really touching her. Alex sighed. So Franky wasn't a just a frightening story with cool green eyes. The softness was there, even if it was only Bridget that could coax it from her.

In spite of herself, Franky turned the page. Another impeccable replication. Again the deep, sad eyes. In this portrait, Bridget was looking to the side, off in the distance of her own mind. Franky turned the page. Heartbroken Bridget at a coffee shop. Lost, solemn Bridget at the park. An up close of her eyes, filled with unshed tears. There was one of her with her head in her hands, weeping. Franky shifted on her feet. These drawings were extremely intimate. And seeing them, in all their incredible glory, was slowly killing her. She alone was the reason for those facial expressions…those devastating emotions. _Fuck this woman's ability to capture these!_

Alex leaned over and Franky leaned back. Alex flipped a few pages. Another portrait of Bridget, but this time, instead of that impossibility deep sadness, there was a hint of amusement. The next page showed those bright eyes twinkling, with the little crinkled lines around them. Her prelude to a smile. Franky turned the last page and took a minute step back. Bridget, in full color, laughed at her. Her wide open mouth, her eyes squeezed tight…Franky could hear it in her mind. She couldn't count the times she'd made Bridget laugh that hard. The drawn sun light was hitting her just right, and the work of art seemed to glow under her fingertips. She looked so…happy. _Oh Gidget_.

Alex took her book back and closed it. "You see?" She asked quietly. "The first pages were when I met her. The last page was a few days ago, before you showed up."

Franky couldn't help but feel angry. It was a hurt, jealous anger. "Why did you show me this?"

Alex gathered up her book. "I told you. I wanted you to know me. I've watched her come alive in the last few months. I want her to be happy, don't you?"

She sighed again. "Obviously I can't make you stay away, Franky. Not when you keep showing up and she keeps opening the door." She ripped the first picture of heartbroken Bridget out of her book and put in front of Franky. "All I can do is ask you. For her sake."

Franky saw her eyes fill and Alex turned away quickly. She left the house as quietly as she'd come, leaving Franky still tracing the broken image of Bridget with her finger, her brows knit together, deep in thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Franky sat at the kitchen table for a long time after Alex had left. One hand was still gently caressing the drawing, and she didn't care that her fingertips were turning grey from the transfer of graphite. She didn't care that her touch was smudging the intricate lines of the face. She continued to roam her fingers over the drawing, deep in thought.

Alex, as much as Franky hated to admit it, had a point. She had shown her evidence of Bridget's transition in the months she'd left the prison. She had been broken when Alex had met her. And whatever Alex had done, Bridget had slowly unfurled her heart and began to heal.

Franky looked unseeing at the picture in front of her. When Franky had showed up, Bridget fell apart again. _Reverting,_ Alex had called it. It was clear that Alex cared about Bridget enough to boldly confront Franky. Franky had been pretty impressed with their interaction. She knew she was intimidating…that's what kept her alive in prison. Each stance and barbed look directed at Alex had been deliberate. Lesser women would have backed down.

But as uncomfortable as she knew she was making Alex, she was grudgingly impressed that the damn little artist stood up to her. And she didn't do it with anger, instinctively knowing that it would have been a bad idea.

No, she had appealed to Franky's heart and mind. She was open and honest. And...fucking kind. Franky sighed. She could see how Bridget could be drawn to her. Besides the fact that she wouldn't be able to tell them apart in the dark, Alex was emotionally everything Franky wasn't.

Bridget had never pushed Franky too hard, rather she let Franky reveal herself over time. It was still hard to unpack all the feelings she was unaccustomed to. All she knew was anger, fear, shame, suspicion and distrust. Since Bridget and her boundless patience came along, she'd learned the polar opposites of the only feelings she was used too. She realized that, like most normal people, she had a vast array of emotions and with Bridget's help she'd learned to label them. Verbalizing them was still difficult, but Franky tried. She really did. What took everything out of her to convey seemed to come easy for Alex. How calmly she just laid her truth out for Franky to take however she chose?

Franky focused on the drawing again. It was a perfect duplication of a wounded soul. It was a loud reminder of what Franky did to Bridget. She caused trouble and heartache. She brought pain and suffering. _A grim fucking reaper._ She'd said those words before. Why would Bridget invite that shit back into her life? Who would? No, Alex was right. Franky was a bad memory. Alex was the happy future.

Tears filled her eyes. She had never deserved Bridget, and had made a terrible, selfish choice while she was in Wentworth. It wasn't fair to want to change her mind now that she was free and her life was back on track. Bridget had been right. _At the first sign of trouble we fell apart!_ Franky did, at least. She couldn't just come back now. Not after everything she'd done to push Bridget away. She needed to do what she promised. She needed to love Bridget more than herself and let her go.

Franky got up from the kitchen table, wiping her cheeks. She padded softly into Bridget's room. She couldn't help but smile as she gazed fondly at the sleeping woman. She still hadn't moved. Franky went to her side and knelt down by the bed so she was eye level with Bridget. She slowly ran her fingers through the soft blonde hair. _Oh god she didn't want to say goodbye!_

"It wasn't all bad, was it?" She whispered. "Being with me? Was I very difficult to love?"

Bridget's eyes fluttered, surprising Franky. But Bridget only sighed and closed her eyes again. Franky smiled sadly and kept her voice low. "I have never loved anyone like I love you, Gidge. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I was so hard."

Her tears started to fall again and she closed her eyes against the unbearable wave of sadness.

"You brought out the best in me." Franky leaned in close and press her lips into Bridget's hair, just near enough to her ear. She breathed a whisper. "A part of me I'd never seen."

Franky squeezed her eyes shut again. She held Bridget's face and cried into her hair. She knew Bridget wouldn't wake up. She knew this was the last intimate moment she would have. "I love you, Bridget Westfall. I always have and always will."

Bridget mumbled something in her sleep. Franky snapped her eyes open. She looked at Bridget, who in all appearances was sound asleep. Franky ruffled her hair gently. "What was that? Gidge? You awake?"

She leaned in again. "Gidge?"

"Loving you was the easiest thing I've ever done." Bridget let out a soft snore, but her lips moved again. "Loving you... ..is so easy. .."

It was slurred and mumbled, but Franky caught every word. She smiled through her tears. She continued to stroke the blonde hair. "No, it wasn't easy, you liar. I know it wasn't."

"…was always you...". .."

Franky stood and moved away from the bed, unsure now. She'd come in to say goodbye. Having a conversation with a notorious sleep talker seemed like cheating the real woman of the walls rightly constructed around her heart...and Franky wanted a very conscious Bridget to choose her…to say these things to her. She didn't want to hear them from an unconscious and hung over Bridget. But there was definitely more of an uncertainty in her decision to leave. _It was the right thing to do, right? For Bridget?_

Franky stood and picked up Bridget's cell from her bed table and found the number she was looking for. A surprised and delighted male voice answered.

"Bridget! How are you, love?"

Franky smiled at the man's simple joy. She glanced at the sleeping woman beside her and kept her voice quiet. "Dad, it's me."

"Franky? What. ..?"

"Dad, can you come here, to Bridget's house?"

"Franky you right? Is Bridget?"

"No, yeah, we're good...sort of. Can you just come, please?"

Allan didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way, Franky. Hold tight."

Franky hung up the phone and set it back on the bedside table. She looked down at Bridget again. There was nothing soft about her snoring now. She'd be out for a while. "See what you do to me?" Franky asked her. "I'm gonna go ask advice from my dad!" She huffed quietly and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Franky got up from the kitchen table and opened it. She couldn't fight the bear hug her father gave her. She smiled as he held her, his voice full of emotion.

"Thought we'd never see ya again, kid."

Franky wiggled from his grip and grinned at him. "Hey, dad."

Thankfully, Allan had instinctively left Tess at home. There was something in his eldest daughter's voice that warranted his undivided attention. Franky closed the front door and they sat on the comfortable wicker porch chairs. Allen glanced at the front door.

"I got a lot of questions, Franky, but why don't you go ahead and start at the beginning, yeah?"

Franky nodded, and took a deep breath. Holy shit she didn't expect the ease at which she poured out everything. Allan just watched her, his kind face wrinkled with a father's worry. Franky told him everything, starting with her actions to push Bridget away so forcefully, their break up, Bridget resigning, her release and getting her job back. His joy at the last two things was short lived, however, when she told him about coming to the house for Bridget and meeting Alex. About Bridget coming to her bedsit. About her coming back to get her things to find Bridget's kitchen destroyed and her love still hung over. About her conversation with Alex and the drawings. The more she spoke the more her father's face crumpled. When she finished he sat back and rubbed his eyes.

"Aw Franky. Aw, Baby, I'm sorry."

Franky was quiet, and after a moment got up and went into the house. She returned a moment later with two glasses of ice water. Allan took his and sipped it. He looked at his daughter.

"I'm that glad to see ya, Franky, I really am."

Franky laughed once. "I should have called you right away."

Allan shook his head. "You called when you needed to. I'm ok with that, although I'm hoping we can start up our Saturday lunches again? Tess'll be over the moon to see ya!"

Franky nodded with enthusiasm, and Allan beamed at her. Then his tone shifted. "Did you need me to just listen, Franky? Or did you need something more?"

Franky brushed her hair back and sighed. "I'm at a loss, dad."

Allan smiled at her, hearing the permission in her statement. "Bridget's a fine woman, Franky. You know, while you were back in that place, she continued to come by on Saturdays. We loved having her. But she seemed...she seemed to be coming simply to hold onto a part of you. And then, a few months ago she stopped coming by. I called a few times, and we talked. She said it was too hard to see us at the moment. Broke Tess's heart, first to lose you, and then Bridget as well." He paused and reached over to squeeze Franky's shoulder. "Broke my heart too, kid."

Allan shrugged. "The way I see it, you are better for her than Alex."

Franky huffed at him, but Allan raised a hand. "No Franky, just listen. Of course you're my child and I'll always take your side…but you and Bridget defy all odds every time you collide. No one that meets you two can believe that you connected the way you did. It just doesn't make sense." Allan chuckled and looked at his daughter fondly.

"You both did it once your first time in prison, when it looked like you'd never get out of there alive. You beat the odds and got out. You did it again here on the outside, simply by living free and happy together. And you are doing it now by seeking her heart once again. Nothing has happened to either of you that you haven't been able to overcome together. Everything that either of you did independently, whether it was wrong or right... ..you both did it with the other in mind. That kind of selfless love is hard to come by, kid. It takes years of interaction to cultivate. It doesn't happen three months after meeting in a bar."

"I attacked her, dad." Franky said quietly.

Allan frowned. "Yeah, Franky. Trust is going to have to be the number one thing to work towards. You need to give her time. That... ..that was a big no-no, sweetheart." His tone was compassionate and Franky felt tears in her eyes. She let them fall.

"The way I treated her is the reason she's broken. I'm no good, dad."

Allan grabbed her hands in both of his. "No, Franky. Her love for you is the reason why she's hurting. Never once did she and I talk about the things you just told me you did to her. She was only was crushed with worry for you. Believe me, kid. She doesn't want a replacement. She wants you. It's always been you."

Franky thought back at what Bridget had mumbled in her sleep. … _was always you. .._

Allan wasn't finished. He let go of Franky's hands, leaning back and studying her. "If you go, kiddo, you will be doing the exact thing that so wounded her in the first place."

Franky rose her eyebrows. "What?"

"You'll be deciding for her again. Making a choice for the two of you that doesn't invite her opinion into any of it."

Franky was taken aback. She hadn't thought of it that way. She was trying to be selfless, and as a result she was being even more selfish. She put her head in her hands. "Argh!"

Allan laughed gently at her. "Come on, Franky, let me take you out to eat. We'll go see Tess and enjoy the afternoon, yeah?"

But Franky shook her head. "I gotta know, dad."

"What if she isn't ready to decide today?"

Franky shrugged. "Then I'll come right over, ok? I'll need some little sister loving."

Allan stood and held out his arms. Franky melted into them.

"I love you, Franky. And you deserve to be loved, you hear?"

Franky didn't answer, but hugged him tighter. After he'd driven away she stood on the porch for a moment and then went back inside the house. She went into the bedroom once again and with a wrinkled brow she knelt down again. "Gidge, can you hear me?"

Bridget hummed in her sleep. Franky reached out and touched her cheek. "Are you listening? I changed my mind. Gidge?"

Franky shook the sleeping woman shoulder. Bridget opened her eyes groggily. "Franky? Is that you?"

Franky sighed. "Yeah, Gidge. It's me. I got to tell ya something…"

Bridget opened her eyes with more focus, and Franky touched her face. "I met Alex, Gidge. Really met her. She showed me her drawings." Franky smiled as she continued to stroke Bridget's cheek. "They are absolute rubbish…compared to the real thing."

Bridget just stared at her, still trying to clear her head. She hummed as Franky stroked her cheek. It felt so good. Franky brushed a strand of hair away from Bridget's face, marveling once again how achingly beautiful she was.

"I came in here to say goodbye, Gidge, but dad's right…that is exactly what I _shouldn't_ do. Not again. Saying goodbye and letting you go seemed like the right thing to do, but I think I'm getting a handle on the fact that my judgments aren't always sound."

Franky studied Bridget's face for a moment. Bridget was definitely listening now. She sat up slightly. Franky sighed. "I'm inclined to leave you and Alex to live out your life happy because that's all I want for you. I want to put you before me always. But I'm starting to realize that making that decision doesn't involve you at all. Just like you said before, I made a choice for both of us. I don't want to do that to you ever again. So I'm going to let you decide. Even if you choose Alex over me, I want it to be your decision. I don't want to run just because I'm afraid of rejection."

Franky removed her hand from Bridget's face. "But I _am_ afraid, Gidge. I'm afraid I've crossed to many lines. I'm afraid that even though you love me you won't want me anymore because of what I've done. What I'm capable of." She hesitated, and then plunged forward. "I'm afraid that my heart will break beyond repair if you tell me to leave you be. I'm afraid, Gidge…not of being alone…but of being without you."

Franky felt a tear fall from her eye and she quickly wiped it away. "So you choose. I know what I want, and that's to be forever with you. But I promise…however long it takes you to decide…I'll wait for your decision."

Franky stopped talking and held her breath. She looked into her favorite blue eyes and smiled sadly. Bridget still hadn't said a word. She was raised up on her elbow looking rather disheveled. Franky blew out her breath and nodded. "Ok, I'll leave ya alone now."

As she began to rise to her feet Bridget caught her wrist quickly. "No."

Franky froze. "No?"

Bridget shook her head. "I can't talk to you when I feel, smell or look like this."

Franky smiled at her and knelt back down. "I don't care. I love your clean _and_ your messy."

Bridget groaned as she caught a whiff of her stale scent. She wrinkled her nose. "I need a shower. And strong coffee. Franky, will you be here when I come out?"

"You want me to stay?"

Bridget nodded, a smile finally creeping onto her face. "Stay."


	9. Chapter 9

A slow smile spread across Franky's face. The way Bridget had whispered her request for her to stay, even for a little while, was enough to ease the ache in Franky's heart. Bridget got out of the bed and immediately grabbed her head. She cursed under her breath and sat back on the bed with a thump. Franky narrowed her eyes. She'd never seen Bridget drunk, or hung-over. While they had been together, Bridget certainly had a few drinks, but they spanned across the entire night. She never swayed on her feet. She never slurred her words. Her eyes never got that glassy look indicative of an inebriated mind. Bridget was well aware of Franky's discomfort around too much alcohol, and she'd never so much as toed the line between enough and too much.

Franky took a step back and watched Bridget hold her head as if it was splitting open. So what the fuck was this? Franky's shock at seeing her lover a wreck at the front door had worn off. Now she was just confused. Had Bridget honestly turned to alcohol when she'd left Wentworth? Had this always been a part of her that she'd guarded to preserve Franky's sense of safety around her?

Whatever the reason, Franky didn't like seeing this side of her. It gave her an uneasy feeling in her gut, and brought flashes of irrational fear and mistrust into the part of her heart that belonged to Bridget. Franky frowned, and then sighed. This was not her mother, and she wasn't a little kid waiting to be hit. This was her Bridget, her equal…her love. Franky could touch her and not be harmed. She reached out and was aware that her hand was shaking. She realized that she had no idea what Bridget needed right now. They had been through so much, but Franky had never seen her like this before. She gently rested her arm on Bridget's shoulder. "Gidge?"

"My head is killing me."

Franky frowned again and rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Must have been a hell of a night."

Bridget raised her head to look up at her and winced. "I forgot who I was with."

Franky raised her brow. "What now?"

Bridget put her head in her hands again. Franky knelt down in front of her, her brow wrinkled with concern. "Gidge? Did you black out?" She knew the dangers of a black out. They scared her shitless.

Bridget laughed humorlessly into her hands and shook her head. "No."

Franky nodded, trying to understand and absentmindedly rubbed the backs of Bridget's calves…much like she used to do all those months ago after Bridget had a hard day. Bridget would talk to her while Franky knelt before her and listened with rapt attention, continuously moving her strong hands up and down Bridget's lower legs. For some reason this was an unparalleled way to soothe her. Bridget didn't know how Franky had even figured it out. It just seemed to be something she'd known to do.

Bridget looked at her. They were almost eye level. Franky wasn't pushing her for details, and Bridget found herself uncharacteristically embarrassed. Should she really tell Franky why she got drunk and ended up destroying the kitchen? She didn't want to see a self-satisfied smirk on her face when she admitted to confusing Alex with her…for _wanting_ Alex to be her. Bridget was fairly certain she'd want to slap her and throw her out if she saw that arrogant smirk.

"I came back from your bedsit…confused. I had a bit too much wine a bit too fast. Alex came by unexpectedly."

Bridget hesitated and looked hard at Franky, looking for any sign of jealousy or anything else to make her feel unsafe to continue. She only saw compassion in the deep green eyes. Bridget groaned softly. "We had…a disagreement."

Franky narrowed her eyes slightly. "Did she destroy the kitchen? Did she hurt you?"

Bridget heard the quiet threat. All she needed was for Franky to storm out and confront Alex. "No. I did. When she left." She took a breath. "I was stupid, and drunk, and I thought she was you."

Franky only nodded. She had no idea what to make of this. A huge part of her leapt at the thought that she was on Bridget's mind…but her evening with Alex had been the opposite of sweet. Whatever happened, Bridget lost her shit completely. "What was the blue about?"

Bridget put her head in her hands and groaned again. She didn't want to tell Franky that she had tried to pretend that Alex was her and molested her. She didn't want to tell her that she had been drinking so much that it was getting easier to mistake them. She didn't want to admit that she did to Alex exactly what Franky had done to her in her cell…only Bridget wasn't trying to push Alex away. She had been desperately trying to forget the woman that now knelt before her.

Bridget turned her face away, ashamed. "I…tried to make love to her…but I only saw you. She knew and…cried. We fought, and I threw her out."

_Holy fuck, really?_ Franky kept her face carefully neutral. She instinctively knew that Bridget was deeply on edge already, and she had no intention of being flayed alive by the unsteady blonde. To her own surprise, the jealousy within her was faint, easily overcome with concern. She cared more for Bridget than she did herself. It wasn't lost on her the magnitude of trust Bridget was showing her by confiding in her such an intimate moment. Bridget was now looking at her hard again.

"I thought you'd…laugh at me."

"It's not funny."

Bridget squinted at the serious face in front of her. Franky looked sad. Not an unbearable pitying look…more of a deep empathetic one. She continued to stroke Bridget's calves. Bridget stared at her, rather marveling Franky's constraint. She didn't try to wheedle details out of her about having sex with Alex. She didn't want to know if it was their first time, or just one of many. She had to be curious. As Franky continued to massage her legs, Bridget felt a wave of gratitude. If Franky had asked her what she'd needed, she would have said this. _Just touch me. Just listen._

Franky slowly got to her feet. She put a finger under Bridget's chin. "Go take a hot shower. I'll put the kettle on, yeah?"

"The kitchen's a mess."

"Naw, it's all good. Just take your time and I'll be here when you get out, ok?"

Bridget groaned softly. She heaved herself out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. She knew Franky would keep her word and be there when she got out.

After she was dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. This version of herself would not be welcome at the university in a few days. She needed to get her shit together, and she needed to do it quick. She sighed and left the bedroom. She could start by pouring out all the alcohol in the house.

Franky was waiting for her at the kitchen table with two steaming cups. She pushed the one with coffee in it towards Bridget. "You look better." She said with a smile. Bridget took the proffered mug and sipped it gratefully. Franky cocked her head.

"Been a bit of a hard go, has it?"

Bridget looked up at her. "Franky what are you doing here? Why did you come?"

Franky sat back in her chair and studied her. "Well I came to get some of my clothes, and then I just thought I'd stay a bit. Something…changed my mind about leaving you alone. And I had to clean up. You killed my kitchen, Gidge." She offered Bridget her lopsided smile.

Bridget put her head in her hands. "I'm a mess."

Franky reached across the table and took one of her hands from her face, rubbing her thumb over the soft knuckles. "I can see that." She said softly.

Bridget looked up and met the deep green…the _right_ green of Franky's eyes, and smiled sadly. "I miss you."

Franky squeezed her hand. "You don't have to anymore, Gidge. I'm here, if you'll have me."

Bridget took her hand away and brushed her wet hair back. She thought of Alex, and how cruel she had treated her. Bridget wasn't sure how, but she had to make that right. Franky saw the sadness on her face.

"I'm sorry, Gidge."

Bridget huffed into her coffee mug. "What for?"

Franky huffed right back at her. "For this. For all of it. This isn't what I wanted for you."

Bridget narrowed her eyes, suddenly indignant. "Oh, you had a plan, did you? Is that why you attacked me? Is that why you…canceled me from your life? And what, now you want to pretend it never happened?" She sat back and looked at Franky. "Want to move back in? All your things are still here. I haven't gotten rid of anything."

Franky was taken aback by the sudden outburst. "No, I mean yes, if that's what you want. The moving back in part anyway…" She added quickly. "And yeah, Gidge. I pushed you away. I tried my hardest and it worked. We broke up. You left." She sighed heavily. "I wanted you to live apart from Wentworth. I wanted you to get out and find something special."

"I _had_ something special."

Franky lowered her eyes, mollified. "Yeah. I know. I did too."

Bridget shook her head. "You didn't give me a choice. You never asked me what I wanted. I thought that telling you that I'd wait for you would show you how committed I was."

Franky looked at the ceiling for a moment. "It did, Gidge! But it scared the shit out of me! If I'd been convicted I would be in my fifties when I got out. If you'd waited, then I would have ruined two lives!"

Bridget sucked in a breath and let it out in a frustrated "Huh!" She leaned forward, her blue eyes bright with emotion. "It scared you? Really? Want to know what I think?"

Franky wasn't sure she did. Bridget was going to tell her anyway. "I think you got rid of me before I decided that I didn't want a convict for a girlfriend anymore. It may have taken me a while, but I would have come to that conclusion, yeah? You got rid of me before I could get rid of you!"

Franky lowered her head. The truth of what Bridget had said hurt. She'd always been afraid of rejection. Always suffered at the hands of those who should have loved her the most. She didn't believe Bridget would be any different. Not really. Even after all they had overcome together, Franky still didn't trust that the other woman would never leave her. Franky felt tears in her eyes. "You're right. I never gave you a choice. I didn't believe anyone could want such a fuck up. Why would you?"

"That's what love is, Franky."

Franky met her eyes. "I'll never doubt you again."

Bridget looked at her for a moment, and then her features softened. She rubbed her eyes. They couldn't keep lashing out at each other, going in circles. What was done was done. Franky was making it clear that she wanted to start over, and Bridget had to decide if she wanted that as well. "Ok, Franky. It's ok. I'm not going to beat you up every time I see you."

Franky nodded and rubbed her hand over her heart. "Tell me what to do, Gidge. Please."

Bridget fiddled with her mug. Franky leaned back nervously and crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself. This was when Bridget gave her a second chance, or threw her out for good. She was taken aback when the blonde muttered again, "I missed you."

Franky was about to respond when she met the sharp blue eyes across the table. She snapped her mouth shut at what she saw in them. Bridget was looking at her fiercely.

"You need to promise me…really promise me, Franky, that you will never lay a hand on me again in violence."

Franky closed her eyes, the image of Bridget's terrified face flashing across her mind. This was an easy one. She'd been haunted by that image since the day she'd crossed that line. She opened her eyes and met Bridget's. "I promise."

Bridget stared hard at her for a moment. Franky's eyes filled. "I promise, Gidge." She couldn't help the waver in her voice. It didn't mean she wasn't telling the truth, it was that they had had a remarkably similar interaction in the prison. Bridget had, in so many words, asked her that question. How many times would she have to promise before she was believed? Franky lowered her head, ashamed to have ever laid a hand on the woman across from her. She let her tears fall. "I promise." She said again.

Bridget reached across the table and took Franky's hands, causing the younger woman to look at her. "Okay." She said calmly. "I believe you."

Franky blew out a breath, her relief and gratitude evident on her face. "Tell me what to do." She said again.

Bridget gently stroked the backs of Franky's knuckles, thinking. She hadn't had a chance to process anything since she'd left the bedsit. Two things were glaringly clear in her mind. One was that she was never going to let Franky go again. The other was that she was going to have to go and talk to Alex.


	10. Chapter 10

Bridget got up from the kitchen table and Franky stood with her, her last question still hung in the air.

_Tell me what to do?_

Bridget looked at the younger woman standing awkwardly and shifting from foot to foot. Bridget looked away from her for a moment and noticed the drawing Alex had left. She'd never seen that one before. She picked it up.

"Where did this come from?"

Franky bit her lip. "Alex gave it to me. She said. ..I was the reason for that look."

Bridget looked at the reflection of her own sadness. Alex had been right, of course, but she hadn't been fair. Franky was the reason for a lot of her joy a well. She tapped the picture. "And?"

Franky looked at the drawing, shrugging slightly. "And I think she's right. I _was_ the reason behind that look." She hesitated a moment. "But she wasn't there when we danced in the living room. She doesn't know what we have. ..had."

Franky caught herself. Bridget still hadn't answered her and she didn't want to assume that when Bridget asked her to stay, she meant forever.

Bridget smiled slightly at the memory. They had many of moments like that, when their faces hurt from grinning, when their bodies ached from laughing, or when their voices became raw from groaning, No, Alex _didn't_ know that side of them.

Bridget looked up at Franky. "How long is your parole?"

"Six more months."

"And then you are free?"

Franky smiled. "Barring another set up? Yeah, I'll be free."

Bridget nodded and went to get her purse. "I need to go out. Get some of your things, Franky, and go back to the bedsit."

Franky's heart plummeted and she miserably looked at the ground. Finally she nodded in resignation. So that was her choice then.

Warm hands on her arms caused her to look up. She hadn't heard Bridget walk over to her. The blonde was smiling at her gently. " _Some_ of your things, Franky. I need to be alone tonight, ok?"

Franky tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. " _Just_ tonight, hey?"

Bridget let her go and shouldered her purse, calling over her shoulder, "don't push it, Franky."

…

Bridget took a deep breath and knocked on Alex's front door. She didn't call first, afraid that she would take the easy way out and blurt her feelings into the phone. Alex deserved to see her remorse. She was worthy of the regret that had settled itself so uncomfortably in Bridget's heart.

When the front door opened, it wasn't Alex who stood before her, but rather her grandmother. Bridget tried to smile at her but the formidable old woman scowled.

"I used to bash hussies like you with my frying pan."

Bridget's eyes widened. She had no doubt that was true. "Please, Wren, may I speak to Alex?"

The old woman looked at her up and down, sizing her up. "Come in and sit down."

She turned and shuffled into the house on bedroom slippers she never seemed to remove. Bridget stood in the doorway for a moment and then followed her into the kitchen. This old woman had never warmed to her. Wren was at the stove, and she angrily banged the kettle onto the burner. With her back to Bridget, she snorted.

"Well you're a piece of work, aren't you?"

Bridget shifted in her chair. How much had Alex told her about last night? They were very close, and the old woman would surely have noticed whatever state Alex was in when she'd gotten home. Alex had told her _something_ , because her grandmother positively bristled with barely concealed anger.

Wren banged a cup of tea in front of Bridget, almost grudgingly. She sat with a grumble and shot Bridget a dirty look. "My number two fryer would resound nicely against that pretty little head." She stated.

Bridget sighed at the threat. "Wren, is she here? Please, I need to speak to her."

"Spare her the heart break a moment longer. We'll have a chat first, yeah?"

"I can see that you are angry. I never meant to hurt her." Bridget said quietly.

Wren glared at her. "Well you did. The road to Hell, Bridget, as the saying goes…"

Bridget sighed and wrapped her hands around her tea cup. Yeah, she knew the saying. She looked up at Wren and saw that behind the stern, winked old face was anger and pain for her only grandchild.

Wren sipped her tea as she studied Bridget. She had been in this world a long time, almost twice as long as the woman in front of her. She had been through her share of the heartache caused by love. She'd known from the start, when Alex came home from the pub flushed with excitement and told her about Bridget, that the blonde was no good for her. Her suspicions were verified when they had first met. This woman, Bridget, was in too deep with someone else. Wren had boldly called her out on it, much to Alex's embarrassment, but Bridget had coolly assured her that her assumptions were wrong. They hadn't completely trusted each other since. Wren huffed a breath.

"I knew I was right about you. Alex refused to tell me why she came home in tears last night, but I'm assuming it's got something to do with your tatted up felon?"

Bridget couldn't keep the flash of anger from her eyes. Franky is and always was more than just a felon. And Wren was _not_ right about her answer months ago. Bridget didn't lie to her. She had been single. Wren raised a hand.

"Oh, calm down, girl. Yeah, she told me all about _that_ one. I remember the stories. I know all about _her._ "

Bridget looked down at her shaking hands. She wasn't going to sit here and listen to Wren pull apart Franky based on old news. Franky was the epitome of a redemption story, and she wholly deserved to be seen in that light. She worked through more in a day than most people had to handle in a lifetime. Bridget had to bite her tongue. Franky, no doubt, had to deal with these stereotypes all the time. How had they never talked about it? She'd been famous on that bloody cooking show for her talent, even more famous for her temper, and a damn legend for her retaliation towards Mike. Her mug shot had been blasted all over the telly. Surely she'd come across people in the streets who recognized her and had acted according to what they thought they knew about her? Franky had never put much stock into what others thought about her, but as reformed as she was, it must hurt her, even a little, to not be able to shake her old self. Not with the constant, wide-eyes reminders of strangers she met at the shops.

Wren was watching her with a hint of curiosity. Bridget gathered herself together and unclenched her jaw. "The _stories_ are quite a far cry from the real woman." She said quietly. "You don't know a thing about her."

"I could care less. The only thing I care about came home crying last night. I'm just putting two and two together, Bridget. All seemed well until your felon got out again. Couldn't let her go, huh? Like a bit of a bad girl, do you?"

Bridget grit her teeth again. _Her name is_ _Franky, you old bitch._ "Wren, if you don't call Alex for me then I will leave and try her cell at another time."

Wren leaned forward, her eyes hard and unforgiving. "Best you be off then, hey?"

"Wren…please. .."

But the eighty-two year old woman heaved herself from the table and rummaged through the cabinet where she kept her fryers. Bridget took the hint and left.

…

Bridget kicked open the front door, still absurdly angry with an old lady. Alex probably wasn't even home, and the woman had bated her inside to rip into her. Wren had a right to be angry on behalf of Alex, but she crossed a line for sure. Alex was a grown woman, and Bridget would not let the old bag make her feel indecent for having loving Franky. She had only known Alex for three months! While Franky was in prison, those three months seemed like forever...especially considering what a gem Alex was. But when Franky was released, it seemed like no time at all. Freedom threw everything into a whole different perspective. It was neither fair or unfair. It just was.

When Bridget had fully entered the house, an unrecognizable, sweet aroma hit her senses. Surprised, she went into the kitchen to find Franky bent over the open oven door. Whatever was in the oven was making her mouth water. Franky hadn't heard her come in, and was using a baster to pour whatever delicious sauce over whatever delicious entrée. She'd obviously hoped to have it ready before Bridget came home.

Bridget leaned against the wall and watched her. Pride leaked into her heart and pushed some of her anger away. This was the Franky that _they_ would never get to know. The fucking amazing cook. The kind, sweet, funny, sensitive, sexy and protective goofball. The woman who beat all odds stacked up against her and fucking _lived…_ and what's more, any asshole who pegged her from a headline would never know what a wonderful thing it was to be loved by her. Fuck them all. They didn't deserve to know.

Bridget strode up to Franky and got noticed by the corner of a startled green eye. "Shit, Gidge! I meant to be gone by the time you came back! I wanted to surprise ya…"

Bridget never broke her stride and grabbed the brunette's oven hot face and pressed her lips firmly into her own. Franky made a surprised noise and immediately clutched Bridget's hips into her.

"Oh no, Gidge," she mumbled, barely breaking the passionate kiss. "No, no, no…"

Bridget entwined her fingers into the long brown hair and gripped Franky's head firmly. "What?" She breathed.

Franky flicked her wrists deftly and shed her oven mitts. Her hands plunged under Bridget's shirt and squeezed the heated skin of her lower back, pressing her hips closer into her own. "The only way I'm leaving now. .." She set fire to Bridget's neck with her lips and tongue. "…is if you call the cops. .." Her hands rose up underneath Bridget's soft blouse, scraping her fingertips against her spine and sending shivers down Bridget's back. "…and I'll have to go back to prison…!"

Bridget couldn't stop the low moan from escaping her throat, the sound almost driving Franky crazy. _Jesus this woman!_ Franky spun her suddenly, crushing her against the refrigerator. Her lips continued to cover every inch of Bridget's face until the weakening blonde pulled her into her lips again.

Franky ripped her hands from under Bridget's shirt and lifted them to her breasts, squeezing and teasing the hardening nipples over her blouse. Bridget broke the kiss and threw her head back. _How long had it been since someone touched her like this?_ The answer was clear. A day before Franky was incarcerated for the second time. The last time they'd made love.

Bridget couldn't control her breathing with Franky's hands on her. She panted a breathy "don't stop" in the unlikely case the brunette had a mind to.

Franky growled into the newly exposed angle of Bridget's thrown back head. "I want you, Gidge, right fucking now!"

Bridget hadn't heard that throaty growl in so long. She realized, unless she was gravely mistaken, that nobody had touched Franky like this in a long time either. She moaned as Franky sucked her neck, just at her erratic pulse.

"Take me!" _Jesus please quick take me!_

Franky sucked in a sharp breath. No one had ever aroused her like the woman in her arms. Hearing her beg…hearing, _feeling_ her desperate desire. ..Franky could think of nothing else. She bent Bridget back over the counter and reached a hand between them to hike her skirt up. Bridget bit and sucked her shoulder, keening with anticipation.

Franky closed her eyes as she reached between Bridget's legs. She could feel the wet heat…

There was a loud knock on the front door. "Bridget?"

_Alex_.

"Bridget, Gram said you stopped by, that old bitch! I'm sorry! Can I come in?"

Bridget and Franky were frozen against each other, staring at each other with the same wildly dilated eyes. Bridget was horrified. _"Fuck!"_ She mouthed.

Franky glanced at the closed blinds. "She didn't see anything."

Bridget clapped her hand over her mouth to stop a hysterical giggle. _Vera. The library. Alex. The front door._

Franky backed away with her hands out. "What the fuck do I do?" She whispered frantically.

Bridget took a breath and smoothed down her skirt. "Go into the bedroom and wait for me."

Franky smirked at her, but she wiped it away immediately. "I should have been gone. I'm sorry."

Bridget pushed her into the hall. "Not one more sound. I mean it."

She combed her fingers through her hair one last time, checked to see that Franky had disappeared, and reached for the front door. Even before she opened it her heart sank. Alex's grandmother wasn't all that wrong about her. Old feelings of regret bubbled up inside her. Was she just about to make love to Franky against the god dammed kitchen counter? It hadn't been twenty-four hours since she'd shoved Alex against the wall and tried to rip her clothes off.

_A hussy._

_A real piece of work._

Bridget's eyes filled with tears of shame, but she lifted her chin and opened the front door.


	11. Chapter 11

Bridget opened the front door. Alex stood on the stoop, and offered her a small smile. "Hi."

Bridget felt the knots in her stomach as she stood back to let the other woman in. "I'm glad Wren told you I stopped by. I didn't think she would."

Alex smiled for real now. "Lucky for you I'm her only soft spot. Didn't take much to get her to spill the beans."

Alex moved into the kitchen, her nose in the air. "Wow, Bridge, it smells amazing in here! What are you cooking?"

Bridget's heart raced. She had no idea what Franky was preparing for her, and she probably couldn't pronounce it even if she did. She bypassed the question. "Alex, I owe you a massive apology."

Alex pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Yeah, you do. But I owe you one as well."

Bridget sat down in the other chair. "Whatever for?"

"I should have told you that I looked Franky up. I shouldn't have been deceptive about it. It was just killing me with jealousy that you still carried such a strong torch for her."

Bridget looked down at her hands. "We have been through a lot together. She's not the kind of woman you get over easily." She said softly. "Alex, I'm so sorry about last night. I had gone to see Franky and…"

Alex rose her eyebrows. "You went to see her?"

Bridget caught the sharp jealous and hurt inflection in the question. "Alex, I had to. I had to see her."

"No, you didn't. You had moved on! We were happy, yeah?"

"Yes, I was happy, Alex. Please understand that I didn't go see her to hurt you."

Alex folded her arms and sat back. "But you did. You fucking tore my favorite shirt, Bridge, and I saw the look on your face. You thought I was _her."_

Bridget had the decency to look ashamed. She _was_ ashamed. "I was drunk, Alex, but I know that's a poor excuse. I was just mixed up and confused. I shouldn't have treated you that way."

"So what came of it? Did you get the closure you wanted? Can we move on now?"

Bridget sighed. She pushed herself from the kitchen table and went to the stove. She had no idea if whatever was in the oven was ready, but she pulled it out anyway. Alex stood and came up behind her, smelling appreciatively. "Jesus, I didn't know you could cook like this, Bridge. What is it?"

Bridget looked hard at the dish. Some kind of chicken? Beef? It was covered with sauces and veggies and she couldn't recall Franky ever having made it for her before. _I wanted to surprise you,_ she'd said. Well it was a big fucking mystery, alright.

Alex touched her shoulder and drew her around to face her. Her eyes had narrowed. "You don't have a clue what it is, do you? Because _you didn't make it!"_

Her accusation hung heavy and long enough in the quiet kitchen for its truth to be known. Alex stepped back. "Is she here still? I saw her this morning. She thought _I_ had hurt _you!"_

Alex went into the living room, her eyes darting around. "Is she here?" She raised her voice, her pain evident. "Come on out, Franky!"

Bridget grabbed her arm. "She's not here, Alex! She came to get some of her things and left."

Alex shrugged her off and moved towards the bedroom. "Just to get her things, huh? And to cook you a meal? Moving back in, is she?"

Bridget grabbed her arm to stop her again and Alex whipped around, anger on her normally kind face. "Why can't you tell me the truth? Just once, Bridget! Stop dicking around with me!"

Bridget let her arm go and stepped back. She'd never seen Alex so angry before. Two months was not enough time to see every emotion. She didn't like feeling so unprepared in her own home. "Calm down, Alex. Please. Yes, she cooked for me. I went to see you and when I'd gotten home it was in the oven."

Alex's eyes flashed. "Pretty domestic of her, yeah? So tell me, Bridget, right now. The truth. Do you want her, or me? Because you can't have us both!"

She stood still in the hallway, waiting for Bridget to answer. Bridget's countenance fell and she felt tears in her eyes. "You're right. I haven't been fair. I'm been selfish, Alex, and you never deserved that. I'm sorry."

"Choose."

Bridget looked at her, feeling her heart breaking. "It was always Franky, Alex. I'm sorry."

Alex threw up her hands in frustration. "Fine! I have no right to argue with you, Bridget. I can see that I was just her sorry replacement. And fuck you for leading me to believe that you cared about me!"

Bridget reached out to her. "Alex I do care about you!"

Alex let herself be hugged, and within seconds was clutching Bridget. Her own tears filled her eyes. "Then why can't you give us a chance? What we have is so wonderful! What is it about her?"

Bridget was not going to get into the details of her love for Franky. She wasn't even sure the English language was filled with enough descriptive words. In trying she would only hurt Alex even more. She let go of Alex and moved away. To her surprise, Alex came back into her, rather forcefully.

"Is she rough with you? Is that what you like?"

Bridget stepped back and Alex matched her. She held up a defensive hand, anger in her voice. "No, Alex, she isn't rough with me. She's a good person."

Alex backed her into the kitchen, her voice raising. "A good person? Seriously? It that why she did a stint at Wentworth then, yeah? Come on, Bridget, you thought I was her when you fucking tore off my clothes last night!"

"Alex…"

But Alex pushed into her and roughly grabbed at her. "I can do that too, Bridget! That's what you said you needed, right? To be fucked?"

Bridget sucked in a breath as her own words were thrown back at her. She tried to push Alex away from her, but that only seemed to infuriate the other woman. "Alex I was drunk! I didn't know what I was saying. I'm sorry! Now _get off!"_

Alex continued to wrestle her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "This isn't my thing, Bridget, but if this is what you need then I can give it to you!"

"Alex _stop!"_ She heard the panic in own her voice. She heard the pounding footsteps in the hallway.

Alex was suddenly jerked violently away from her.

" _Get the fuck off of her!_ "

Franky threw Alex away from Bridget with enough force to make the other woman lose her balance completely. Alex fell to the side and threw up her hands against the counter as she went down. She barely avoided banging her head as she hit the floor, Franky loomed over her, breathing hard and willing herself to refrain from beating the fallen woman to death.

Bridget grabbed her arm. _"Franky, no!"_

Franky had her hands tightly clenched into fists. Her fierce green eyes were still blazing. She took huge breaths to try and calm the anger that had all but consumed her. When she opened her fists, her hands were shaking. Bridget held on to her arm, partly to help her calm down, partly to hold her back.

Alex slowly up off the floor. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Franky. She was still breathing hard. She looked from one woman to the next and then shook her head. Her pain masked by her contempt. "Unbelievable," she gasped out. She looked from Bridget, who was still holding onto Franky's arm…to Franky, standing slightly in front of the blonde and poised to strike. Alex then ignored Franky completely even though she flapped an arm in her direction. "You choose _that?_ You choose violence? Bridget, a fucking felon? With that all unpredictable anger?"

Franky twitched forward and Bridget clenched her arm in a vice like grip. Her voice was low. "It wasn't all that unpredictable, Alex."

Alex shook her head again, absentmindedly rubbing her hand over her heart. "This time, maybe." The tears finally came. She raised her hands, at last looking at Franky. "Ok. Fine. You win." She laughed humorlessly. "You two deserve each other."

Still rubbing her heart, she pushed past them. When she reached the front door she suddenly gasped sharply and grabbed her chest. She let out a soft "oh" before she collapsed in a heap onto the floor.

Bridget let go of Franky and raced to her side. " _Alex_! Shit, Franky she's not breathing!"

"What?" Franky quickly knelt next to her, and put two fingers to the unconscious woman's neck. She frantically patted her face. "Alex? _Alex_? Fuck, Gidge! What happened? Did I…?"

"I don't know! I think she had a heart attack! Franky, call triple 0!" She yelled. She started CPR, lacing her fingers and timing her rhythmic pumps just below Alex's sternum to that damn Bee Gees hit. She leaned down and breathed air into her lungs.

"A fucking heart attack?" Franky was incredulous.

"She had a heart transplant!"

Franky froze, and Bridget looked up at her. When their eyes met, an instant and deep understanding passed through them both. Their contorted features mirrored each other. Bridget closed her eyes briefly. A woman that she desperately cared about was laying unresponsive under her hands. If she lived, she would certainly charge Franky for assault, and Franky would go back to prison. If she died…Bridget refused to think about that. As she continued trying to breathe life into Alex, she came to a quick conclusion. "Franky…call triple 0, and then get out of here!"

Franky turned and swept up Bridget's cell phone from the kitchen table. Bridget barely heard words like "sudden" and "heart attack". After Franky made the emergency call she knelt down by Alex's head. "You pump, I'll breathe."

Bridget tried to keep time and think simultaneously. "Franky…go. Please."

She stopped pumping and Franky pinched Alex's nose and tipped her chin back. She breathed into Alex's mouth. After two breaths, Bridget started pumping again. Franky remained where she was. "I'm not leaving you, Gidge. Not now, and not ever again," she said firmly. "Trade places. Your count is getting off." She laced her hands and placed them firmly against Alex's chest. " _Come on, Alex!_ "

Bridget shuffled on her knees and shook out her tired arms. She carefully held Alex's head, tears in her eyes. As she stroked Alex's cheek she whispered, "I can't lose you. Not like this."

Franky felt a surge of guilt as she pushed in firm, quick pumps into Alex's chest. She looked down at the still woman underneath her and guilt quickly turned into remorse. Alex had every right to be hurt and angry. Even though she'd no right to attack Bridget, Franky didn't have to throw her so hard. She'd had a fucking heart transplant, for Christ's sake! Franky groaned internally. _Please be ok!_ She sat back. "Breathe," she commanded. Bridget bent forward and Franky watched Alex's chest rise and fall with Bridget's air. She heard the sirens in the distance. "Here they come, Gidge. She'll be right. It'll be right."

But she wasn't so sure. Was this her fault? She fought the panic rising in her as the sirens blared right outside the house. All her instincts warned her against being present when the uniforms arrived. She grit her teeth and started pumping again until Bridget grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her out of the way. "Go! I got this!"

Franky set her jaw. "No way! I'm not fucking running! I wanna make sure she's ok!"

Bridget resumed pumping, tears streaming down her face, and choked on her words. "Franky, it was an accident. It just happened! It's ok! It'll be ok!" Bridget seemed to be convincing herself as well.

She sat back and before she could take Alex's face, Franky leaned down breathed into her. "And if it isn't?" She asked between breaths, her guilt leaking out into her voice. "I'm a felon, Gidge. Alex will lag when she wakes up. I'm already fucked. Jesus, Alex, _come on, BREATHE, damn you_! Christ if she's dead…"

The sirens were right outside the door. Bridget looked wildly at Franky, whispering roughly. "She's _not_ dead. You had _nothing_ to do with this!"

"Keep pumping! Then why should I go? Because I'm a fucking criminal? Because everyone will think I tried to kill someone… _again?"_

Bridget sat back and watched Franky fill Alex's chest with air. "Come on Franky, think of your parole! With just me here it can be an accident. It _was_ an accident! With _you_ they'll make it a fucking crime scene! You know I'm right!"

She started pumping again as soon as Franky sat back. She clenched her jaw. "If they take you again I'll die. I swear to god Franky I won't live through that again!"

"You think I will? _Fuck!"_

The emergency crew started banging on the door. Franky jumped to her feet but Bridget beat her to the front door, blocking it for one more second. Tears welled in her eyes, making their blue almost iridescent. "I'll never ask you to compromise yourself again…but please… _please baby…!_ "

Franky glanced at Alex and closed her eyes, her heart tearing in two. "If she dies, I'm turning myself in."

Bridget shook her head. "You did nothing wrong! You were protecting me!"

"We can explain that!"

But as they looked at each other in that split second, they both knew the truth. They knew the system and how it worked. If Bridget had pushed Alex away it would have been self defense. Franky had assaulted her, and if in the horrible chance Alex died, with Franky's record it would go downhill…fast.

Bridget gave Franky a hard shove and put her other hand on the door knob. Franky gave her one last piercing look before fleeing through the house and disappearing out the back door.

Bridget jerked the front door open and the emergency response team immediately flooded her kitchen. They quickly resumed CPR on Alex while a uniform questioned Bridget. She was openly sobbing now and the officer barely got anything other than hers and Alex's name.

"We have a pulse!" One of them exclaimed. They lifted Alex onto a gurney and hurried her into the ambulance. As they sped away the uniform tried to console Bridget and get some answers. Bridget was clutching the counter top with one hand, the other clapped over her mouth. _She was going to live!_

"Ms. Westfall? Can you tell me what happened?"

Bridget struggled to think. "We were…talking. It was a disagreement…she…Alex got angry…fell…heart…CPR…"

She stated to cry again. The uniform put away his pad and rubbed her shoulder kindly. "You might have saved her life. She's in good hands now, yeah? They are taking her to County Hospital. You can gather your things and follow the ambo. Can you give me a contact number of a family member? I'll notify them and you can meet them at the hospital, ok?"

Bridget was nodding, but she wasn't sure if Wren had a cell phone. She certainly didn't know the house number. "She lives with her grandmother, Wren Peterson. I don't know her number."

Her voice was barely above a whisper. The uniform squeezed her shoulder. "I'll find her. Would you like me to wait for you to get your things?"

Bridget shook her head. "No, no I'll be there. Just please tell Wren."

The uniform nodded, and after Bridget gave him the address, he left. Bridget stood in the kitchen and shut her eyes. She wasn't sure if she should even go to the hospital…and certainly not to meet Wren. The batty old loon would kill her. _Oh Alex!_ Bridget felt tears in her eyes again. Had she caused this? Had Franky? Was Alex going to be ok, and would she shoot Franky to the cops?

Bridget lifted her head when she heard the back door open. Franky came into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around the startled blonde. In spite of herself, Bridget hugged her hard.

"I told you to go!"

Franky held her tightly. "And I told _you_ I wasn't going to leave you again."

Bridget huffed into her chest, but held onto her gratefully. "They found a pulse before they took her away."

"Thank god!"

Bridget pulled back slightly. "Franky...they might have believed me, but Alex can tell them what happened."

Franky let her go and stepped back. "Do you think I did it? When I knocked her down?"

Bridget shook her head. "I don't think so. She was already very upset. And she got up after she fell. I think it was just a freak thing."

Franky rubbed her eyes. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Gidge. I couldn't let her. ..I couldn't let her go at you like that! I'm so sorry!"

Bridget closed the gap between them and held Franky's shaking form close. "I know baby. I'm...glad you were here…"

"But…"

Bridget buried her face in Franky's chest. "But we're going to have to see what Alex says when she wakes up."


	12. Chapter 12

Holding Bridget like this had been the only tangible thought on Franky's mind lately. But now that it was happening, she frowned. She hadn't meant for it to be like this, being clutched for dear life by a semi-panicked and deeply shocked woman. Once the paramedics and uniform had left, and Franky stepped back into the kitchen, Bridget had said only a few sentences before her shock set in. Her tender heart had been through too much in the last few days and this had been the worst of it. How many times could her life be upended?

Franky's anger had fled when Alex hit the floor. All it left in its wake were muscles still quivering from abrupt excursion, and a rapid heartbeat. As she held Bridget and rocked her slowly she felt a calm settle over her. It was as she'd expected. Her nature prevented her from going into shock right alongside the woman in her arms. Childhood may have done that, or prison might have. Either way, she'd seen her share of horrible things, and though they struck her in the moment as factually being horrible, her brain stored the scene away for a later time. Probably sometime tonight she'd find her heart beating too quickly and her hands would be shaking. She would have made a hell of a First Responder, had she the inclination to see unending tragedies day after day. As it was, she was able to keep head level and her voice calm for the one person who mattered most to her.

"Gidge? How about you sit a moment, yeah?"

Bridget nodded and Franky led her to the kitchen table. Bridget sat heavily and stared, unseeing, out the window. Franky went to the cooled dinner she'd made and cut into it, fleetingly pleased that it had not been ruined. She scooped a good sized portion on two plates and brought them over to the table. She filled two glasses of cool water and brought those as well. She would have preferred a rich red to go with this meal, but considering the circumstances, water would do.

She took a bite and waved her fork slightly at Bridget. "Go on, Gidge."

"I'm not hungry."

Franky shrugged. That may or may not be true. She knew that Bridget hadn't eaten anything since she arrived this morning. She should be famished, but shock does all sorts of stupid things to the system. She didn't push the other woman, and smiled slightly when after a short moment Bridget picked up her fork and started eating. She smiled wider at the deep noise of pleasure that came from Bridget's throat.

"Good, hey?"

Bridget scoffed at her. "You know it is." But she also smiled.

Franky's smile faded. "I…wish I had gotten a chance to tell you what it was before…Alex came by."

Bridget stopped eating. "How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Franky sighed. "All of it Gidge. You know how sound travels in this house…"

Bridget put her fork down and put her head in her hands. When she'd said she'd needed to think, she meant for longer than an afternoon. Now, suddenly, Franky was in her kitchen and Alex was in the hospital. "All of it?"

Franky nodded and self-consciously stood, clearing her plate. "Yeah, I heard ya tell her. But I didn't assume you meant anything other than you wanted to try us out. To work towards…something." She put her dish in the dishwasher and washed her hands. She wanted to be busy. She didn't want to look at Bridget. She desperately didn't want to acknowledge the super intense moment they shared seconds before Alex knocked. She had no idea that was coming and she still rather cursed herself for being home when Bridget came back. It kind of killed the surprise.

But then Bridget had come at her with a look that Franky had all but forgotten. The other woman had slammed their faces together almost painfully and it didn't take long to melt into her. Jesus, they were _that close_ to fucking against the kitchen counter before Alex knocked! It was too late in their history to ignore the unequivocal desire for one another. But had that really been the responsible thing to do? Without talking first?

And then Franky was shoved into the hall and commanded into the bedroom and forced to listen, biting her lip to shreds, as Bridget and Alex vented in the kitchen. Her heart leapt when Bridget had said that it was always her…of course it did. Shitty circumstances, but Franky couldn't keep the grin from her face and her heart from palpitating and her skin from prickling with unfinished desire.

It went downhill from there. Alex lost her cool and Franky lost her temper. Bridget had jumped between them and after looking once at her face Franky could tell she'd messed up again. She was everything Alex accused her of. Bridget backed her quietly, not excusing her behavior but certainly acknowledging its reason. In the seconds it took for Alex to get to the front door, Franky became deeply ashamed.

So was Bridget thinking that she'd wished their conversation went unheard? Franky wiped the counter down. Was she remembering life with Alex, free and happy, versus with her…volatile and…Frankyish? She could never be what Alex was for Bridget. The girl had been a blank fucking slate, and Franky came with all sorts of baggage. Franky stopped wiping the counter and at last looked up at Bridget.

Bridget was still sitting at the kitchen table, her chin in her hand, looking intently at Franky. She took a breath. "Franky…"

Her tone caught in midair and the silence was deafening. Franky nodded and moved from the kitchen. "All good, Gidge. I'll just go get my things."

Bridget stood quickly and intercepted her. She raised her hands and Franky stopped in front of her. "I was going to ask something, but it's crazy and stupid and I shouldn't."

Franky tilted her head. "Try me."

"I need…I need the Franky that was here months ago. I need the one before she was arrested. I need my friend. For just a minute I need my best friend."

There were tears starting up in her eyes and Franky just stared at her for a moment. _The fuck?_ What did she want? Was she literally asking Franky to forget everything that had happened between them since her remand? As she looked at Bridget, slightly confused, it dawned on her what Bridget was asking. Recently, when they saw each other and spoke, it was on eggshells. It was hesitant, tipped with anger and hurt. With betrayal and loss. They were more than what they had become to each other. This was the truest way that Bridget could ask for Franky…really ask for her. Franky knew that it didn't mean they weren't still going to have those hard conversations…she was sure she could bet on it.

Bridget was asking for the real her. Not the hurt, apologetic woman trying to win her love back. She was asking for the confident, secure, strong woman that Franky had been before she was most recently arrested. Franky smiled lopsidedly at her and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her into a strong hug. Yeah, she could do that. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, putting her present insecurities aside.

"You need to go see her, Gidge. In the hospital."

Bridget didn't respond right away, and Franky held her just a bit tighter. "That's what I would tell you to do. You have spent a pretty substantial amount of time together, and she deserves to see your face when she wakes up."

I'd rather stay here with _this_ you."

Franky laughed softly. "Now who's dreaming? If you want me, Gidge, I'm right here. We have our whole lives to hammer our past to death. We don't have to do it now. But if you tell me to stay here and wait for you, that's what I'll do. It's what I always would have done."

Bridget looked up at Franky. "Stay and wait for me."

Franky simply nodded and kissed Bridget on the cheek. "Okay."

Bridget pulled herself from her arms and looked at her steadily for a moment. She didn't deserve Franky. And Franky didn't deserve her. But dammit they were a match. Somehow they had made a happy life together, once upon a time…beating all the odds against them. Class and social status meant jack shit when it was true love. That happy life would be more than a memory. If she had anything to do with it, it would be their future.

…

When Bridget arrived at the hospital her heart began to race. She knew Alex was stable, she knew which room number to look for. ..and she knew that Wren would be there. She took a few deep breaths as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the 3rd floor. The trip was short. She should have taken the stairs. _When had she become such a coward?_

But she knew the answer. She'd became a coward the moment she set eyes on Alex in the pub. She had used this kind, sweet and funny woman to replace what she knew could never be replaced. She let herself be charmed and allowed herself to believe that she could move on so soon. _What a lie._ She'd known the instant she confused Alex with Franky that very first night that she should have left and hoped to never see that doppelganger again.

But she stayed. She stayed and used Alex for the sake of her own broken heart. Her feelings for the other woman were partially real at best. In her profession that was called denial, and it was dangerous.

Bridget sighed when she knocked on Alex's door and let herself in. She hoped against all hope that Wren had stepped out.

No such luck. The instant Wren saw her, she scowled. "Get out!"

Alex touched her arm weakly. "It's ok, Gram. I want to talk to her."

Wren's scowl disintegrated when she turned to her grandchild. "Al, baby, you've been through enough…"

"Gram, she saved my life."

"After almost taking it!"

Alex sighed and rubbed her hand over her heart. She winced. "Please give us a moment."

Wren nodded reluctantly and stood. She shuffled towards the door. "The police and I will be right outside." She said ominously as she scuffed past Bridget. She was still wearing her bedroom slippers.

When she'd left, Bridget came to the bedside. "Oh, Alex…thank god you are okay!"

Alex raised a hand again. "I wouldn't go that far, Bridge, but yeah, I'm alive. ..thanks to you… and Franky."

She reached out her hand and Bridget took it warmly. "Bridget I'm sorry. Jesus I'm so sorry! I've never behaved like that in my life!"

Bridget held her hand in both of hers, shaking her head. "Don't. You were hurt…angry. I can't hold it against you."

"Yeah, you could. But thank you. I don't know that woman who did that to you and I never want to see her again. If you. ..and Franky… bring that woman out in me. ..it's for the best that we part ways, yeah?"

"Alex you deserved better than what I could offer. I'm so sorry. ..for everything."

"I know what a broken heart looks like, Bridget. I knew what I was getting into."

Bridget felt tears in her eyes. "Then why did you. ..?"

Alex shifted in the bed and groaned quietly. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" She chuckled softly. "How could I not try?"

Bridget shook her head. "Damn fool."

"Damn day-dreamer."

Bridget laughed and smiled down at her. "I met you at the wrong time, Alex." She whispered, and meant it.

"You got it bad, don't you? For Franky?"

Bridget nodded, almost apologetically.

"She's good for you?"

Bridget cocked her head. Interesting choice of word. Good _for,_ not good _to._ In truth, Franky wasn't always good to her. But _for_ her? There was never going to be anyone else.

"She is."

Alex sighed and let go of Bridget's hand. "Well maybe she'll stay out of prison this time."

"Alex…?"

Alex looked at her seriously. "Gram wants me to press charges against her. Send her back to prison. Break your heart like you broke mine."

Bridget closed her eyes briefly and held her breath. But Alex wasn't finished. "But how could I ever say that I cared for you if I did that? Honestly, she did what I hoped anyone would do for you if some crazy chick attacked you. .."

She looked into Bridget's eyes, her own impossibly sad. "I know you both saved my life. The least I can do is save your relationship. No, Bridge, I'm not going to press charges. Consider us even."

Bridget squeezed her hand gratefully. "Thank you."

Alex laughed humorlessly, dropping Bridget's hand. "Anyway, if you're anything like what Gram thinks, you won't need me to destroy something that's bound to self-destruct."

Bridget bit her tongue. Franky wasn't perfect by a long shot. There were times that she was so damn stubborn and difficult…but she was also easy to love. That in itself was what made them work. Bridget knew she wasn't perfect either, but for better or worse, Franky stuck with her.

It still pained her greatly when she thought of how Franky pulled away from her when she was arrested. The things she said and did accumulated over a matter of months and slowly shredded Bridget's heart to bits. Even when she laid her desperate explanation at Bridget's feet in the bedsit. ..it still hurt. But as fresh as the pain still was, her complete joy at having Franky back out weighed the past. She could never excuse the behavior. ..but she could understand its rational and forgive it. What Franky had done was calculated and out of love. ..as opposed to what Alex had done to her. That was pure jealousy and anger. Franky would never and had never acted with those motives in mind. To Bridget, that made her a predictably safe person. She may act out, but thus far, even in her lowest, darkest moment, she'd had Bridget's safety and future in mind. When she thought she was going to lose Bridget completely, she didn't revert to her violent tendencies. ..she allowed Bridget to decide.

_I love you enough to let you go._

And there it was. The depth of her commitment that no one would ever understand. Consistent in putting Bridget first. It's what she'd always done. _That_ was the kind of love Bridget couldn't live without.

Bridget pursed her lips together and held her peace. The world would constantly believe that a psychologist and a former felon would self-destruct. It wasn't her job to explain any different.

Alex watched her closely, and clutched her heart again. "Promise me something, Bridge."

Bridget nodded. "If I can."

Alex looked away for a moment, but didn't bother trying to stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. "If you guys don't make it. ..if you break up. ..don't come looking for me."

Pain flashed across Bridget's face. She leaned down and kissed Alex's forehead. "You are worthy of regret, Alex."

Alex met her sorrowful eyes and sighed. "Just promise me."

"I promise."

…

Franky was dozing on the couch in the living room when Bridget walked in. Bridget silently put her purse on the kitchen table and leaned in the entry way, watching Franky sleep. She knew better than to touch her, so she called out softly. Franky jumped, and took a second to unclench her fists.

"Gidge? You right?"

Bridget didn't have an answer. No? The last three days sucked really hard? Yes, Franky was in her living room and Alex would live?

Instead she just remained against the wall. "She isn't pressing charges."

For an instant Franky looked relieved, and then concern flooded her face. She sat up and patted the spot next to her. "Come here."

Bridget kicked off her shoes and left them, taking the seat next to Franky. She allowed herself to be pulled closer and they settled into a familiar position. Franky's arm around her shoulder, her head resting against Franky. Her arm draped easily across Franky's middle. They conformed against each other automatically.

Franky absentmindedly played with the hand slung across her stomach, gently stroking and entwining their fingers. The fingers of her other hand soothingly running through Bridget's cropped hair. "Was it very hard?"

Bridget watched her play with their fingers. "Of course it was. She never wants to see me again. Even if we break up, she told me not to come looking for her."

Her voice broke a little. _Damn that_ did _hurt to be told that._

Franky kissed her head. "Ouch. I'm sorry." She was quiet for a minute. "You know I'm not going anywhere, Gidget. You won't need to find her." She pressed her lips into Bridget's hair again. "And I'm really glad she's alive."

Bridget hugged her middle. "Me too."

"What do you need?"

Bridget tilted her head so she could see Franky's face. "I need you to never push me away again, but if you have to, you will tell me the truth as to why."

Franky's heart constricted in her chest. She nodded, not quite able to trust her voice. Thankfully Bridget settled back into her chest, satisfied. They sat like that for quite a while, until Franky was certain that Bridget was asleep. Her quiet voice startled the brunette.

"There's one other thing I need."

Franky scratched her hair. "Mmm? And what's that?"

Bridget lifted her chin and turned Franky's head towards her. "You. Right now."

"As in our unfinished business earlier in the kitchen?" Franky's eyes lit up, but her brow wrinkled. "You sure?"

Bridget grabbed her chin and pulled their faces inches apart. "You tell me." She growled.

Franky knew that look. That rough tone. Her precious lopsided grin that she reserved only for Bridget crept slowly across her face. She hummed as their lips met…not with the fervor of earlier. ..but in a more luxurious and sensual kiss. Memory and experience served them both well, but there was a tenderness in their initial contact, and both were content to re-learn the other. Franky shifted them slowly and lay Bridget back on the couch. She smoothed the hair from her forehead as she settled against her and gazed into those darkening blue eyes. She'd never loved so deeply before. "I'm yours." She whispered. "Now, tell me what you want me to do."

The End.

***Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading my story! I deeply appreciate all the kind reviews and pms…it's you who keep me writing!**


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